#basically just learning the ropes that kinda thing

[bigfrogdraws]

YOU WORRY TOO MUCH, YOU MAKE YOURSELF SAD

YOU CAN'T CHANGE FATE, BUT DON'T FEEL SO BAD

ENJOY IT WHILE YOU CAN, IT'S JUST LIKE THE WEATHER

WELL, SO QUIT COMPLAINING, BROTHER, NO ONE LIVES FOREVER

LET'S HAVE A PARTY, THERE'S A FULL MOON IN THE SKY

IT'S THE HOUR OF THE WOLF, AND I DON'T WANNA DIE

[wild-jackalope]

Ahhh your resent fix is amazing and I'm in love with it ❤️😭 your so talented 😍 would you do a HC with that fic like how was marriage life, any mini story with Mark being a dad and reader teaching him more human things I'm a sucker for stories like that 🥹

summary :: headcanons of your marriage with Viltrumite Mark, from this oneshot

warning :: general manipulation, having a child together, sex after marriage, home life with your superhero husband, kinda smut, lots of sex, angst, fem reader, Mark is quite literally his Dad, not 100% proof read

note :: so glad you asked for this because I really wanted to expand on this version of Mark a little more

★ Mark was far from the perfect partner, but he wasn’t the worst either.

freshly moved in

★ For one, he was surprisingly clean. Your home rarely saw a mess, mainly due to his occasional absences. When he was home, he folded his clothes neatly instead of tossing them about. He'd stack the dish washer after you made dinner. Which, granted, you had to teach him, but it stuck. He took pride in keeping your home tidy.

★ He was basically your personal heater during the cold months. He would wrap you up in his warm limbs and shielding you from the chill outside— but come summer, he was also your personal enemy. Mark loved to cuddle you, no matter the temperature. Some mornings you’d wake up to sticky skin, hair damp against your neck and your husband wrapped around you like burning rope, unwilling to let go.

★ He slowly began to melts into your affection, parting from his rigidness into your arms. It was a gradual change, but prominent. The Mark you first knew wouldn’t have dared to hug you back. He held you like he was trying to commit your shape to memory, his chest solid and warm against your squished body until you had to gently push at his shoulders to ease him off you.

★ You saved a lot of money on travelling expenses. No need for a thousand dollar plane ticket to see the world when your boyfriend's arms were just as—if not more—comfortable. “Rome tonight?” He’d ask, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I was thinking Turkey,” you’d respond.

★ Sex was a given constant. Once Mark finally moved in, it was practically every night—unless he came home too late into the night, or groaning from injuries sustained from missions. But when it happened it was like nothing you'd experienced with any other partner. Somehow, it had only gotten better over time as you both learned each other's bodies like your own.

★ The only thing he failed to grasp was sharing. The words “Mark, you can’t use that, it’s mine.” Never seemed to reach him. You’d groggily walk into the bathroom, bump his hip lightly before rubbing your eyes only to notice he was using your toothbrush. In reality, you didn’t care too much—after all, you two swapped spit almost every night— but it was more about the principle.

★ You had learned many things about him, mainly how to treat Viltrumite wounds. He would fly into your home with a myriad of injuries: sometimes light bruises, other times deep, angry gashes. Over time, you discovered that cold water and ice helped his healing along. So you kept a basin ready, towels stacked, and your hands steady—even when your heart wasn’t.

★ During lazy mornings, you’d wake up to him hovering over you. His brown eyes laxly gazing at your figure waking from your peaceful slumber. Was it romantic? Yes, but also startling.

★ The first time he said "I love you," was after a particularly rough fight. You'd patched up his wounds and pressed a longing kiss to his lips, slow and aching. The words didn't startle you, because it had felt as natural as hearing his heartbeat. But when you pulled back to look at him, you saw it in his eyes—that it had startled him.

fiancée

★ The proposal wasn’t some exquisite dream where he got on one knee as the sun setting behind him, asking you those three wonderful words. No— it was actually more of a battle. “Marriage.” He said bluntly, arm still lazily holding your bare waist, anchoring you to his chest. You blinked, an emotional shiver rising up your spine. “You want to get married?” “Yes.” Your breath caught, and you ran a hand through your hair. “Okay, well, you need a ring. Uhm, you need to get down on one knee—” “Why would I kneel to you?” He asked, suddenly rising from the bed to peer down at you. “To show devotion, I think," you said carefully. “Bending a knee is a sign of submission,” Mark corrected, his tone clipped with Viltrumite distaste. You grinned, tilting your head to the side, "and what, you'd never submit to me?" "No." You sat up with him, trailing a fingernail across his chest just like you did most nights before initiating sex. His body loosened, his eyes lidding as he leaned in to kiss you. "Get on one knee," you whispered, "and ask me to marry you." He huffed out something like a laugh—amused, a little exasperated—but still obeyed. Sliding off the bed, he dropped to one knee, took your chin between his fingers, and said: “Will you marry me?”

★ Mark never quite fixed his jealously issues. They had only been tamed by the looming label of husband and wife. He still stared with a dark, pointed gaze at people who looked at you in a way he deemed incorrect. You knew the look well. You would just tug his arm, fingers curling around his bicep. The grounding touch was usually enough to pull him from whatever scenario he'd imagined for them.

★ Something he never entirely understood was lingerie—at first. He was the type of man that wouldn't blink at the most delicate, lacy set, just peel it off you. It wasn’t until one night, when you sighed at his undressing and looked away from him that he asked why you were being huffy, that you explained: “I wore this for you, Mark, so you’d find me sexy.” He finally saw the appeal. The nights after that, he'd let his fingers run over the bumpy lace, watching the way you presented yourself and the intent behind it. After all, what’s more sexy than your partner wrapping their body just for you?

★ He never cared for all the planning that went into the wedding. Why not elope and have it done with? Bachelor parties, not seeing the bride before the wedding—he saw the traditions as useless. That they only served to distract him from the real reason of the union, to be with you. Everything else felt like noise.

★ A honeymoon, though? Now was something that enticed him. A week abroad, just the two of you doing nothing but spending time together, eating, talking, fucking and celebrating. He would surely be telling Cecil to fuck off if he asked for any favours during that week.

husband

★ He was not a fan of wedding rings, stating that it would be inevitably broken during one of his fights. But he was quickly swayed when you said “This ring is a promise, Mark, that we’ll stay together through anything,” and from then on he was sure to keep it in tact.

★ Occasionally, when you were dead asleep beside him, Mark would mutter confessions of his home planet. But he never told you anything of his home when you were awake.

★ Suddenly, your name got replaced with "My wife." You were always introduced proudly as his wife, to friends and other heroes whenever they asked Mark about his personal life. Even to family members, Mark would call you his wife, which some found a little annoying. But to him, it was a title of honour.

★ You came to learn he showed his anger through silence, the kind that manifests in tense jaws, clenched fists and intense stares at nothing specifically. Communication— even after years on earth— was something he never figured out. He never yelled, just kept things from you.

★ He never really grasped the concept of casual affection. Kisses would divulge into your back pressed against a cold wall, his hand keeping your jaw slack whilst memorising the cave of your mouth. As much as you loved to have a man utterly whipped by you, having quickies every morning because you gave his a goodbye peck often made you late for work.

★ Honestly, your relationship remained just as perfect as it was before you two tied the knot. Only now, it was forever secured in the title of husband and wife.

father

★ When you fell pregnant, it’s was a surprise to say the least— a stupid surprise considering you two would have sex all the time— but a surprise nonetheless.

★ You cried into him, unable to stop the utter flood of emotions. He was unable to react himself, cradling your face and attempting to discern if you were frightened or overjoyed. He could barely see past the tears in your eyes, so he just held you and allowed you to soak the front of his shirt.

★ When your baby bump became prominent, he hovered, literally. Always doing house tasks before you could and never allowing you to pick things up from the floor.

★ Never, in your years together, had you ever seen Mark shed tears—until he held his newborn daughter. She was quiet, having already been soothed by feeling your skin against her. Gently, he peeled back the blanket swaddling her and offered her his finger. Her minuscule hand closed around it without hesitation. That had been the final chink in his armour and the tears came.

★ You thought because you traveled the world with Mark, you’d seen all of life’s most beautiful sights. Golden sun rises in Greece, the glittering coasts of Australia, the hushed snowfall in England. But one late morning, you stepped into your shared bedroom and saw them: both him and your little girl asleep, her tiny body on his chest, rising and falling with his steady breaths. You decided that was it. The most beautiful thing you’d seen.

★ He would often just watch the two of you. The way your fingers would delicately swipe her baby-hairs away from her little face, the way you'd fuss over her even when she slept—always tucking her blanket tight to keep in her warm. You never noticed his gaze fixed on you but he could stare forever, struck by your combined love given form.

★ The moments you never wished to end were the ones where Mark held you from behind, both of you watching your daughter feed—his arms around you, your arms around her, all of you held in love.

★ He hardly slept in the weeks after her birth. Not because of her cries at night, but to watch over you. The way your fingers rested gently over her tiny chest, your sleeping breath in time with her's, soothed to sleep by one another's heartbeats.

★ He had been a beautiful father, kind, warm, steady.

and yet…

Yet.

Your daughter stirred painfully from her death-like sleep. Her lashes rising then closing in quick flutters, adjusting to the bright, white hospital lights. You—broken by shame, guilt and something darker—had been too lost in the unending chasm of your mind, crushed between memories and what ifs to notice. Not until the hand held by your own began to twitch.

You rose, as if her sign of wake brought life into your zombified mind.

She tried to speak— her jaw cracked, purple with bruises, too swollen with internal bleeding to move. Through her dry voice, you knew she was attempting to call for you— for Mum.

“Don’t try to talk,” you gently hushed, "you're going to be okay." Your hand reached her dishevelled black hair, gliding over it in a soothing motion that had become second nature during your seventeen years of motherhood.

Her hollow gaze drifted down to her body. Both her legs and pelvis were locked in a correcting plaster elevated by two slings. Her left arm hung too, bruised fingers peaking from the thick white cast. Her right arm, the only one left, was wrapped tightly in a gauze and only punished her with pain when she attempted to lift it.

Her horrified eyes then returned to you.

You smiled at her. Though your red, puffy eyes betrayed you. "You're safe now, it's all over." You took a nearby cup of water and brought the straw to her lips. "Here, drink."

She did—barely, coughing at the strain the liquid caused her raw throat.

"I'm so proud of you." You said, forcing the cancer rising up your throat to free your words of any trembling.

Wordlessly, she rejected your touch, turning her head away from your hand. Silent tears streaming down her face.

Your hand dropped, alongside your heart. “I’ll... let you rest.” You pressed a gentle kiss to her feverish temple, I love you so much, the kiss said.

And then you left.

The moment the door shut behind you, you collapsed—body wracked with sobs that tore from your chest. It felt as though your soul had split into two, one half with your daughter and her terrible wounds, the other, gone. With Mark.

You buried your face in your hands and for the first time since you found out Mark killed the guardians, you finally let yourself cry like a powerless parent who couldn’t protect their own child.

[bambisnc]

𝖥𝖱𝖮𝖬 𝖠 𝖳𝖮 𝒵 ᕱ ᕱ i wanna speak "you"!

                  ❪ ➴ ❫─── 라이즈; hearing you speak your native language

ft. OT7 % fluff crack + hcs + 0k && w. i'm just yapping highkey + unspecified language so that this works for ALL of my baddies ˖ ✧

♡ [ t-t-teach me all about your (love) language ] : ty for sending in this request anon !! i hope i can continue to make you happy hehe :3

++ quick yap hi if i sched this right it should be on the day i start volunteering :3 also lwk gonna make an en- vrs of this so more ppl can see how funny i am

                  🔗. 𝗀𝗈 𝗍𝗈 𝙁𝗶𝗟𝗘 ᰈ̠ 𝗡𝘼𝗩𝗶𝗚𝘼𝗧𝗘 ✮ 𝗖𝙇𝗶𝗖𝗞

大崎将太郎 — ❪ OSAKI SHOTARO ❫  

ㅤㅤ౨ৎㅤㅤi see him as being instantly drawn in by you speaking it. will pull out his glasses and go full language nerd mode TRUST me. he's gonna get on duolingo and be sapphire league in NO time. but definitely be ready for constant "hey, how do you pronounce this word again?"s or "WAITT what does that phrase mean :O"s. when (not if) he's decently fluent, he'd whip out his new skills to impress you EVERY chance he gets ><

송은석 — ❪ SONG EUNSEOK ❫  

ㅤㅤ౨ৎㅤㅤyou cannot look me in the eyes and tell me he wouldn't be slightly annoying (but like affectionately) about it. giggles like a 12 year old if you curse in your language and says it sounds hotter (totally not based on irl events btw) because it's more "authentic" like !! you do you sir !! also asks you to teach him stuff like "ily" in the language to say it right back to you (even if he does lowkey butchers the pronunciation </3)

정성찬 — ❪ JUNG SUNGCHAN ❫  

ㅤㅤ౨ৎㅤㅤstunned pikachu face reincarnation on god. no because he'd be so dramatic about it "how could you hide this from me 💔💔💔" type shit like chill please... he'd be such a fanboy about it though. "wait say that again. one more time. no wait, two more." would use wanting to learn the language as an excuse to rope you into so many movie nights w/ all your favorite ones in the same language

박원빈 — ❪ PARK WONBIN ❫  

ㅤㅤ౨ৎㅤㅤhe will have literal heart eyes. argue with the wall idc. lowkey malfunctions, drops everything to stare at you. also be cautioned; he might get a little obsessed with it </3 would hold up things to you and ask you what you would call it in your language and go "woah..." every single thing.

홍승한 — ❪ HONG SEUNGHAN ❫  

ㅤㅤ౨ৎㅤㅤtries to act nonchalant so hard but he's like swooning with 10 minutes. will also definitely use it as a way to be a flirt; he'd do all his research to curate the best pick up lines he can in your language just to match you whenever you ALSO he'd try to get the accent right (if there is one in the language) so hard and he'd decide that he can speak the language too now. trust him.

이소희 — ❪ LEE SOHEE ❫  

ㅤㅤ౨ৎㅤㅤpretty boy would likely ask you your "favorite words / phrases" and learn them for you and will also be the biggest hype boy EVER + i think he'd also want to learn how to write basic stuff in the language so that he can leave you cute little notes. might also tear up if you something sweet / confess your love in the language; will insist he's fine though :(

이찬영 — ❪ LEE CHANYOUNG ❫  

ㅤㅤ౨ৎㅤㅤprobably would act Kinda normal about it, he'd say something along the lines of "oh you can speak this language? i had no idea" but you will never catch him interrupting you EVER (which he wouldn't usually either, bc listener bf !! but especially when you're talking in your native language) and slightly similar to sungchan, but he'd get super into songs in that language + would love to listen to you sing along too

𐙚 . regulars : @x0llaz @fae-renjun @nicholasluvbot @totheseok @hanninova @evanesceki @soobundle1009 @cuntyhoesstuff @chrrific ⋆

[@bambisnc] 2k25

[hey-itsdollie]

HEELLLLLOOOOOO POOOKKKIIISIIIIIEESSSSSSSS I'M BAAAACKKKKK >:DDD

Listen why is ness kinda like.... 😍 like he's so baby I just wanna smother him with kisses until he almost passes out like sgsheiueiejehehehehehehhe

So like for the main thing I was thinking... Ness, kaiser and sae x reader (seperately) where we just give them tons of surprise kisses and then they full on malfunction like hello yes 😋😋😋😋

Oh and for the friendship drama, there isn't any update BUT the friend that I had the problem with deleted the main app where the whole class is able to talk (she said it's because of storage problems but I gave her like 4 solutions 😭) but like we see and we don't judge ig

Oh and for a random detail, I randomly decided to pick up on learning how to use a jump rope properly (never learned as a kid) and now it's basically the only thing I'm doing in this summer (other than going to weddings)

Anyways hope you have a great day or night, sending you tonnsssss of bunnies , candy and hugs, and I'll see you later :D

Quick kisses!

awe this is such a cute idea!

‧₊˚ ┊ In which you give your boyfriend random kisses<3

୭˚. ᵎᵎ featuring » ness. kaiser. sae. kurona.

⋮ ⌗ ┆cw ⪼ fluff, female reader, established relationships, aged up, use of pet names

── .✦ Alexis Ness

Ness and you were currently cooking dinner together. Both scrambling around to either check the food in the oven and other making sure to put the salad together.

It was a normal week night… right?

Wellit would be if each time you passed by each other you didn’t stop him to place a quick kiss somewhere on his face. His eyes widening as his brows raised, turning to look at you but you were off in your own world while cooking.

Throughout making dinner you successfully landed five additional kisses to his face. A sigh leaving your boyfriend as he sat down at the table with you.

“All those kisses and you never aimed for my lips?”

You stared at him blankly before laughing. His pout being quite adorable in your eyes. “Right my apologies honey.”

Just then you leaned over and kissed him sweetly on his lips. Your widened eyes softened to the point they closed as he melted into the kiss. A whine leaving his lips as you pulled away.

“Lex we made all this food, didn’t you say you were hungry earlier?” You laugh as he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah but now I’m hungry for something else…”

── .✦ Michael Kaiser

Kaiser took you out shopping, enjoying watching you run around excitedly when you find a cute outfit. He also enjoyed being able to watch you put a show on for him.

And that is exactly what was currently happening. Kaiser was sitting in front of the dressing rooms, legs spread as he sat comfortably. Waiting for you to come out and show him an outfit you had put together.

Each time you showed him an outfit you placed a kiss on his lips. Never a long nor full kiss just a quick peck. Which the blonde didn’t like that very much; not being a fan of half-assed kisses in the first place.

Though to you, you weren’t thinking much of it. Finding it endearing that he was willing to sit patiently for you. So to your surprise when you were about to give him another kiss, he pulled you down onto his lap.

Gasping, as his hands gripped your hips. Lips connected he kissed you passionately, your eyes widening before you gave in to him.

That was until it clicked in your mind that the two of you were in a public place. Pushing away with a deep flush. “Michael what the hell!”

“You were teasing me with half-assed pecks, what did you expect me to do?” He remarked childishly.

── .✦ Sae Itoshi

You went along with Sae to practice. Enjoying the sight of your boyfriend working out and running across the field. Not failing to notice the small tricks he would slip in just for you.

Sitting near his water bottle, each time he was able to get a break. You would slip a small kiss to his face after using a towel to pat his face dry.

Of course after the first couple Sae was starting to grow agitated. He didn’t like quick shows of affection–it was like you were teasing him.

So when he was currently running up to your spot. Already noticing you get ready to pat him dry and give him his newly filled water bottle. All he did was grab your chin and pull you into a semi-long sweet kiss.

Your eyes slightly widening before you smile into the kiss. “What was that for?”

You ask after he pulls away, Sae shrugged while drinking his water. Muttering “I felt like it” instead of confessing to his agitation.

You laughed, waving him off as he ran back onto the field. Already preparing for his next small water break.

Quickly catching onto the fact he was doing way more for water breaks than normal, due to the looks he was receiving from his team mates. What could you say? Sae loved his girl.

── .✦ Ranze Kurona

Kurona wasn’t much of a people person. Staying relatively quiet in a group setting–only speaking a little bit to his particularly close friends. So when the two of you were invited to a small arcade hangout with his friends from blue lock. You could easily see your boyfriend either hanging around a small group or staying close to you.

“Ranze look!” You smiled pointed at a shark plush in the claw machine. Even before you two started dating you had a fascination with sharks. Which only got worse once you got with Kurona.

Now anything of the animal reminded you of your boyfriend. Meaning you had to have it. The two of you had matching shark plushies, onesies, and even necklaces. You two even had one of those apps where you could raise a virtual pet–of course you two picked a shark and named it Tuna.

So Kurona being the perfect boyfriend he was, he started playing the game to win the plushie. Each time he retried you kissed his cheek, cheering him on as he flusteredly worked the joy stick.

Finally after many kisses and many tries. Kurona won the plushie and handed it to you. His face was blushing red as you gave him a loving kiss as a thank you.

“Shark shark…” He muttered seemingly frozen.

©hey-itsdollie please don't copy, change, or steal my work. Thank you!

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

X♡X♡ [SEVEN DAYS] Day 1

You're struggling a bit to comprehend the fact that you really did agree to this whole week-long thing with him. Luckily for you, Jungkook knows exactly how to ease you into things. But wait- why is he naked?!

Tags/Warnings: Porn with a lot of plot basically, inexperienced!reader, Dom!Jungkook, BDSM themes and elements, non-sexual nudity, safeword discussion, Corruption kink, some backstory on JK, Shibari, wax play, Dom/Sub dynamics (beginner/introductory), minor sub-drop, slight angst, dry humping, cumming inside underwear, massages, mentions of primal play, mentions of pet play, very light orgasm control, hinted praise kink, JK in nothing but dark grey Calvin's for like... 90% of this, hinted big dick!JK, they both in love it's kinda cute,

Shibari: a form of artistic bondage using rope to create visually appealing patterns on the skin.

Wax play: the use of body-safe candles to drop wax onto someone's skin.

Corruption kink: gaining pleasure from corrupting a seemingly innocent person.

Length: 6k words

-> Masterlist

A/N: I'll include a short definition of the kinks in every chapter because I just know someone's gonna ask/complain that I don't explain things enough in my works haha. Also my smut writing is kinda rusty I've noticed, so I apologize for that as well...

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"So.." You say through your food, chopsticks seemingly aiming for any piece of meat that could be done next on the barbecue in front of you on the table. "..do we like, need some fifty-shades-of-grey-type contract?" You ask Jungkook, who rolls his eyes.

"Absolutely not." He shakes his head, drinking some water. "Don't tell me you saw that movie too." He asks, and you shrug.

"Saw it with Jimin and Yoongi back when it was in the theaters." You say. "Yoongi said there was a lady who literally masturbated in the front rows, but I don't believe that. Who would do that in public?" You cringe to yourself, and Jungkook watches you for a second.

He's gonna put a no on voyeurism for you then, judging from that reaction.

"I'm surprised Yoongi went." Jungkook chuckles.

"Me too. Wasn't really sure why he did." You tell Jungkook, snatching a piece of meat for yourself. "He just complained over it the entire time anyways."

"Yeah, well-" Jungkook says, reaching for the scissors to cut up some meat. "-he's in the same scene as I am, so I'm not surprised he thought the movie was dogshit too." He explains, and your eyes widen.

"Wait, Yoongi ties people up too?!" You hiss, and Jungkook can't help but shake his head, laughing to himself.

"That's the tamest thing he does." He laughs. "Yoongi actually.. showed me most of the things I know." Jungkook offers, putting the scissors back to the side to instead pick up his chopsticks again. You wonder what he means by that.

"Like.. what?" You ask him, unsure- but you can't deny the curiosity inside of you. You had a hunch about Yoongi for a while now- and in a way, you can see him being in the whole scene a lot more than Jungkook. Jungkook is your fluffy buff but cute best friend- Yoongi has this odd aura to him that feels almost like a warning that he's hiding more of himself than he shows.

"I'm a Dominant person, right?" He asks you, and you shrug. "I like to be in charge, command and take the lead during.. scenes."

"Yeah, that part-" You say, stuffing a steaming piece of meat into your mouth, almost burning your tongue, "-I know about that stuff. Like, dom and sub, top and bottom all that." You nod, and he acknowledges it too.

"Good. Then you probably also have read that the best Dom's have been sub's in the past." He simply tells you.

"… so Yoongi tied you up before?" You ask, and Jungkook lets his head fall for a second.

"You're so cute sometimes, you know that?" He shakes his head, before he continues. "No, he actually didn't. I learned that part all by myself." He explains gently. "But before I could take charge, I had to learn. Someone had to get me into this stuff somehow, right?" He shrugs.

"So you and Yoongi were a couple at some point?" You ask, but he shakes his head.

"Yoongi and I had something similar to.. us, one could say." He explains across from you. "Simple exploration, nothing more than that." He tells you, before his chopsticks reach out to steal a piece of food right from between yours- and when you look up, he's staring right at you. "So now that I think of it, Yoongi and I had nothing like we do." He says.

"H..how so?" You ask, slightly intimidated.

"Because I don't just want to explore and leave you be after this week." Jungkook says. "I hope you know that I'm aiming for something entirely different here."

"For what?" You wonder, and he leans back, crossing his arms, grill in between you both sizzling loudly.

"Your trust." He shrugs. "Your love." He offers.

"What if I can't love the same as you do?" You say, a little defeated. You know Jungkook likes you- it's no secret. And you know he knows that you like him too- because it's no secret either.

"Then we'll search until we find what works." He responds.

"But-" You start, but he reaches out instead, a warm hand over yours cutting you off in midst of your sentence as he speaks to you, voice just as warm as his skin.

"I won't give up without trying first." He tells you. "And neither should you."

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"Why here?" You ask, as he adjusts the couch into a makeshift bed for the time being. You'll be staying the entire week with him, and you'd agreed to that, because you've stayed over a lot of times before. Jungkook's apartment is nothing new- it's familiar, like a second home, warm and comforting.

"Because my bedroom is too intimidating-" He starts, tucking in a bedsheet in the corners of the couch. "-and I don't want to ruin your own with memories that might be unpleasant." Jungkook offers.

"Oh." you simply say, unsure. You've not yet thought about the possibility of him doing something you.. don't like. What happens then? Will you have to leave, or will the week end before it's even begun? Will it make things awkward, and weird?

"Hey." Jungkook calls out softly, holding out a hand. You look at him confused. "The blanket?" He asks, and you remember now that you're holding one for yourself to sleep under tonight, giving it to him. He puts it in a corner for now, same with the pillows, before he pats the couch for you to join him on. "Are you scared?" He asks, and you shake your head- albeit a little unsure.

"Just.. nervous." You say. "It'll be weird."

"Maybe." He admits. "A lot of things are weird first time. Nothing wrong about that." He shrugs.

You sit down on the makeshift bed next to him, when he chuckles, and brushes your hair over your shoulder. "I'll go shower real quick, alright? You just get yourself comfortable." He tells you, and you nod, watching him as he leaves to walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

It's clear that he's taking his time in there, because even after an hour, he's not yet returned. Or maybe longer? You're not sure, because you know you've somewhat dozed off on the bed when you feel his hand on your shoulder, simple strap top giving him access to a lot of bare skin there. He smells nice, and when you reach out, his skin is warm.

Wait- skin?

The moment you open your eyes you're greeted with his bare legs- he's only really dressed in some… dark grey, very form-fitting Calvin Klein's that pretty much hide almost nothing, really. It makes you sit up suddenly, body having to take a moment for a second after the rather sudden movement, a chuckle heard from Jungkook who seems entirely unbothered by his almost-nudity. "Sorry I took a bit longer. I had to get some stuff." He explains, sitting up properly himself.

"Why- why are you naked?" You ask, unsure where to look. In his opinion, you're so.. adorably shy just from the mere sight of his bare skin that it makes his inner desire stir a little. The fact that he's gonna be the one to really help you discover some of your hidden fantasies gives him chills- the good kind, of course.

He can't wait for what you might be hiding.

"I'm technically not." He raises his brows playfully, before crossing his arms- noticing the way your eyes focus on them for a good moment. "And considering why you're here, you'll soon have to get undressed too." He shrugs.

"Oh.." You hum yet again today, looking down on your body. You didn't really think about that. Compared to his toned body, you're.. an embarrassment.

"A body is just a body." He tells you. "I know you don't like yours, but I promise you it doesn't look the same to me as it does to you." He reassures you.

"Do I have to.. like.." You mumble, and he understands.

"You don't have to do anything." He promises. "We can just forget about this whole thing-"

"No!" You deny, shaking your head immediately. You do want this. You do want him to.. love you the way he does love others. Or maybe you want to somehow make him love you in a more.. special way. You're not sure- you don't really know what exactly you want right now, but you do know that you trust him.

You trust him.

"I trust you." You say out loud, grabbing the hem of your shirt- when he reaches out.

"..can I?" He wonders, and you nod, raising your arms without thinking so he can easily pull the item of clothing over your head. It's cute, the way you already feed into his own interests and kinks, without even knowing- and is that a piercing decorating your belly button? "Good girl." He purrs, lifting your shirt over your head, before slip out of your leggings, sitting back down. His hands move around your back slowly, fingers easily finding the clasp of your bra to undo it, letting the piece of underwear fall down easily from your shoulders and into your lap. "Hey-" Jungkook says, and you look up at him. "-you're fine." He smiles, and you nod.

You're fine.

"You can keep on the rest." He says, referring to your panties. At least you chose some cute ones, you think to yourself a bit relieved, as you nod. "I know you said you can't imagine it-" He starts, grabbing some pale pink and rather… delicate looking rope from the side. "But I'd like to try it, still." He asks, and you nod. "I won't restrain you this time. I'll only show you what it feels like, so you can decide for yourself if you enjoy the sensation or not." He says, and again, you only quietly nod. "But before that.. we have to address this first." He chuckles, looking at you. "I need.. verbal responses from you. Not just somewhat of an answer."

"Like.. do I need to call you sir, or something?" You ask, and he smirks.

"If you want to, you can." He smiles. "But you don't have to. A simple yes or no works just fine for me. And-" He adds on, undoing the neatly folded nylon rope in his hands as he speaks. "-We need a safeword."

"A safeword?" You repeat, and he nods.

"Something other than stop or no that you say to end a scene and get you out of whatever position you might be in." He explains. "Preferably something odd, that you wouldn't normally say during sex, so it won't be used by accident."

"So like.. Tiger?" You ask, not really thinking about it, and he nods.

"Tiger it is." He agrees, tapping your folded knees. "Turn around for me, yeah?"

"Yes." You say, moving to sit in front of him, making him chuckle.

"Cute." He comments under his breath, before he positions the rope right under your chest. "Tell me.. what do you usually do?" He wonders, and you don't answer for a moment.

"Like.. when I do it myself?" You ask, and he hums an agreeing reply.

"Yes. I'd like to know." He tells you. "So I'll have somewhat of an.. idea what is safe and comfortable for you." He explains his reasons, while he moves and adjusts the pale pink rope around your torso. You've almost instinctively moves your hands to hold onto your neck so your arms are out of the way, and he can't help but grin about that.

So much to 'I can't see myself enjoying that'.

"Uhm.. I don't know-" You begin, unsure how to really talk about that. "I have like.. toys, n' stuff, and I usually do it in the bathroom cause I get the bed dirty otherwise.." You explain.

"Toys?" He asks, pulling the rope snug in some places- and while it's tight, it doesn't bother you at all, surprisingly. You understand when he said that some people feel some sense of security from it- it feels actually quite nice, even the knots you can feel dig a bit harsher into your skin.

"Yeah like.." You take a deep breath, somewhat to test if that's still a possibility- and you can, while his fingers seem to adjust some knots in the back. "..a normal… dildo." You cringe at saying it out loud, moving on quickly. "And a vibrating.. thing. I don't use anything else." You admit, and he chuckles, as he taps your butt.

"Sit up for a second." He commands, and you do so, letting him guide the two ends of the rope in between your legs before he helps you sit down again. "So other than that, I guess you just use your hand, am I right?" He assumes, and you nod.

"Yes." You add on quickly, squirming a bit at the sensation of the rope between your legs. You have to control yourself. It's clear that he said he doesn't want sex- yet.

"You're free to get.. turned on, by the way." He tells you, teasingly pulling on the ends that run through your legs as if to underline his statement. "After all, this is about you."

"But-" You complain weakly, trying not to move to much. "-What about you?" You ask, and he shrugs, something you cannot see.

"I'm getting my satisfaction, don't worry." He explains. You're not sure how that would work- but you don't question it either. Say.." He starts, tapping your elbows. "How do you feel, right now?"

"Good." You nod to yourself. "It's.. surprisingly comfortable. It feels nice." You say.

"It looks nice, too." he offers, hands moving over your skin, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin. "Very pretty." He praises, and you decide you don't care if he's just speaking about his work- you take this praise for yourself, using it to fuel your own emotional state in this moment. He runs his hands over your arms that are now comfortably down, hands holding yours for a second. "Let yourself go." He chuckles. "You're still tense."

"I can't help it.." You complain weakly, unsure what to do. It does feel nice, you want to move- but in a way, it's not quite right yet.

"Then maybe I can help.." He offers, hands testing the waters it seems like as they run over your thighs, just touching, nothing else. "Would you want that?" He asks, and you nod, eyes closed. "Words, darling." He demands, face close to yours while his fingers suddenly dig into your skin, gentle punishment for not following what he'd told you to do at the beginning.

"Yes.!" You almost gasp out, when one of his hands moves to grab onto the back of the artistically tied harness, pulling you, arching your back for you as he forces you to rest your upper body against his arm. You can practically feel the way your underwear soaks up your arousal, rope suddenly moving a lot more easily with the help of it between your legs.

"Show me how your hips can move." He hums into your ear, and what should feel weird comes naturally. Like in a trance you follow his words, let yourself fall because he's basically seeing all of you right now anyways- and he's seen much more before, so how bad can it really be? You trust him.

You trust him.

You can hear his breathing right next to your ear, and your hand starts to wander- before it stops. "Can-" You begin, swallowing down before you can continue. "can I touch you?" You ask, unsure if the same rules that apply to you apply to him as well. It's only fair if they do, right? It's only fair to ask him for permission, right?

"Yes." He answers, and with that, your hand blindly searches- finds his knee, moves up his thigh, warm skin underneath your rather cold fingertips earning a change in the pace at which he's breathing in. You hold onto his leg for a moment, feel the muscles move underneath the skin for a good while, as you become more and more desperate for a release of any sorts. You want to touch him too, but you don't know how- so you just leave your hand where it is, not moving any further.

His head, meanwhile, leans down into the crook of your neck, placing soft kisses there, while the hand that's not holding onto your harness moves over your chest, grabs onto the soft flesh with almost rough motions. You can only imagine the sight of his inked hand holding strongly onto your skin, thumb running over your nipple as your breathing hitches, legs moving in any way you can imagine to adjust your position.

But it's not enough.

Only when his hand sneaks between your underwear, the rope and your skin do you finally make any progress, breathing heavier as his fingers seem to play around with you just the way you like it. And it doesn't take long for you to come undone, back arching more, eyes clenching shut as he helps you ride it out for as long as you can.

You notice after a moment or two how he has already begun to untie you- and in a way, you're confused.

"What're you doing?" You slur a bit exhausted, surprised yourself how much energy this seemed to have taken out of you.

"Untying you." He chuckles, continuing to undo all the knots while he holds you close to him.

"Yeah but.." You mumble, moving a bit so he can reach your back better. "What about you?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"This isn't about me." He declines. "And I've had my fun, don't worry about me." He reassures, gently pulling out the rope from between your legs, making you cringe as you feel how wet you are down there. "There we go." He softly hums, running his palms over the red skin where the rope has left it's mark here and there. It doesn't hurt- though you do have to admit that your back and neck are kind of sore now. "How do you feel?" He asks, and you shrug- hissing when it stings.

"I think I pulled something, dunno.." You say, sitting up as he rolls up the rope again, setting it aside, before he helps you sit properly for a moment. "I'll go wash up.. sorry for the uhm.. sheets.." You mumble as you see the damp spot where you've sat on.

"No problem." He shakes his head, getting up as well to help you up. It's only when you enter the bathroom and Jungkook is still behind you that you suddenly question what's going to happen next. "What?" He chuckles, amused.

"Uh.. I need to.." You struggle, unsure how to tell him what you want to say. "I wanna shower?" You question almost, and he laughs.

"I know." He confirms. "And I wanna make sure you're fine." He tells you, and you look at him confused. "You might feel fine right now- but once that adrenaline goes down-" He tells you, a finger gently tapping your collarbone. "-you might not be."

But you cross your arms, stubborn as you are. "I'm fine." You tell him, and he smirks suspiciously, looking at you with his arms now crossed as well. "You said a no means no and I'm saying no right now." You huff, and he reacts at that-

though not in the way you thought he would.

Because he simply nods, uncrosses his arms, and sets some towels out for you to use. "Don't worry about running around naked, I'm not bothered." He simply snickers, before he leaves you alone, a moment of silence soon interrupted by him moving around in the living room, presumably changing the sheet over the couch. You slowly take off your pretty soiled panties, putting them in the hamper to wash before you get into the shower to clean up.

And much to your own dismay, Jungkook seems to be right, because suddenly, as the water runs over your skin and you're almost done cleaning up, you're not fine anymore.

Dark, rather upsetting thoughts suddenly grow inside your head, making you feel not shame- but something almost like regret. You should have insisted to do something for him, right? Maybe he wanted to shower with you because he felt like you were abandoning him.. just because he is a guy, doesn't mean that he's without any feelings. Did you upset him? He probably won't tell you even if he did.

A knock on the bathroom door is heard, and you're busy trying to pull yourself together, when Jungkook's still bare arm reaches out to turn off the shower, before he wraps a towel around you. Quietly he dries your hair with a towel before he leads you to your makeshift bed, now with new sheets, where you sit in silence until he returns with brush and hairdryer. Everything goes by in a blur, until you feel Jungkook's hands on your shoulders, his legs next to yours as he holds you close to himself.

You're waiting for the 'I told you so'.

But he doesn't say it.

Instead, he simply silently sleeps on the couch with you, letting you cling onto him throughout the small nap you take in the middle of the day as much as you want.

◇━━━━━━━━━━X♡X♡━━━━━━━━━━━◇

A few hours later, when you wake up, things are.. weird. Just like you feared.

Jungkook is still sleeping heavily, right behind you with you laying on one of his outstretched arms, biceps serving as a surprisingly comfortable headrest. He smells nice, his body is warm, and he looks relaxed as he still slumbers away.

And yet, you feel odd.

He just quietly took care of you after.. what you did a few hours ago, but you don't understand why you actually felt that way. You know that it was irrational of you- nothing had happened, everything was fine, you made a decision that you felt most comfortable in. So why were you so distraught over it later?

Well, he told you that you might end up like that. You just didn't listen.

He slowly stirs behind you, waking up as he watches you already sitting on the couch, wide awake. He's careful but not overly cautious as he slowly gets up as well, simply observing for a minute or two before he decides to speak up.

"How are you feeling?" He asks, and you shrug. You're not sure. You don't know it yourself.

"I don't know." You answer because of that, because you can't give him anything than that.

"Hm, I can imagine." He hums simply, running a hand through his chaotic bedhair. "I knew you'd drop, but I also knew.. you had to experience it yourself." He shrugs, watching you with still sleepy eyes.

"Drop?" You wonder, and he nods leaning back on his hands.

"Think of it as.." he thinks for a good example, "when people go to concerts. And they end up crying afterwards. It's the same principle, at its core." He says, and only now, as you turn to face him, do you realize you're only wearing panties- just like he's only wearing his boxers, making you snatch up the blanket to cover yourself. You earn nothing but a chuckle from him. "What we did together gave you a rush. And without any aftercare, people crash down from it." He explains softly.

"So that's why.. you wanted to shower with me?" You ask. "Aftercare?" You wonder, and he nods.

"Its important. For everyone involved, not just the.. one receiving it." He offers.

"Were you.. upset?" You ask, and he shrugs his shoulders.

"A little." He honestly replies, and you're thankful for that. It only adds to your reasons to trust him.

"I'm sorry." You say, pulling the blanket a bit closer. "I didn't know."

"Now you do." He simply chuckles, a hand on your back as he gets up, and walks into the bathroom, getting some things you assume before he emerges again. He's still almost naked as he walks back to you, smiling in a friendly manner as he sets down a towel, and tells you to lay down on your stomach on it. You do as told- determined not to push him away this time.

He notices that change in your behavior almost immediately- and he can't help but feel excited about it.

You're swaying your legs a little as you watch him light a candle close by, setting it on a table for now before he leans back and watches you it seems like. You realize it's one of those he'd received in that package earlier today- and you're curious. "What're you doing with that?" You ask, chin on your arms.

"I'll.. let some of the wax drop onto your skin." He says, chuckles when you tense up. "Dont worry. They're body safe, very low melting point. I'm only using things I believe you can handle." He offers, when you feel something drop onto your back- right between your shoulder blades.

True. It's hot- but not unpleasantly so. Maybe like the warmth of a cup of tea maybe.

"After all…" he hums, one more drop under the last falling down. "…You're not only getting to know me.." he continues, voice almost.. sensual as he speaks, another two drops falling in quick sucession of one another onto your skin, straight on your spine. "…but I'm getting to know you, too." He tells you with amusement, free hand softly running over your back. "Your body is talking to me a lot more openly than you do, darling.." he purrs teasingly, and only now do you notice how dark it is in his apartment. How long did you two sleep? It must be almost nighttime by now- led lights and flame from the candle illuminating the room enough to see comfortably, while he runs his fingers over your skin, another set of drops falling down the length of your spine.

It's almost agonizing how slow this all is. Frustrating, even. But you try and stay composed, maybe that'll earn you praise?

It's only when he sets the candle aside, and starts to dig the heels of his palms into your muscles that you sigh out in pleasure, feeling how your sore neck and back relax. Of course he'd know everything about massages. Sometimes, you're convinced he knows everything.

It feels childish to think like that, but sometimes, you've caught yourself looking at Jungkook as if he's the answer to all your problems. As if he can just pick you up and whisk you off your feet, hold you close and fight all monsters like a knight in shining armor ripped straight out of cheesy romance novels. He makes you feel like that, at least. And maybe it's time to let him prove if he can be prince charming.

"There we go." He praises suddenly, hands still moving as he sits behind you, legs pulled over his thighs while he continues to push out the knots in your neck and shoulders. "Let yourself go." He mumbles to you, as if he's hypnotizing you. If he does, it's working, weirdly enough. "I'll take over from here, hm?" He asks, no, states, and you simply sigh, closing your eyes.

"Yes." Is your answer, and you can't see the way his lips twitch.

His arms push your legs closer to him, manhandles you gently to have your core right over what you assume must be his own length, barely contained in his underwear. You wonder what he looks like. You've been told you can't take much- how will he make it work? He feels strong, big- maybe too much to handle. But you want to learn, maybe there's a way. You want to take him, even if it hurts. You've never felt like that before- it had never been something.. attractive to you. But you want him to make you take it. You trust that he will, now that you think about it.

You don't even question if he will. You know he will- the anticipation lays in how.

Are you already realizing it? What you could have with him? Probably- maybe. Or maybe it's just the way his bulge feels pressed against your core that's making you dizzy in the head. Yeah. That could be it, too. The way it's hot and hard, giving you nothing but a teaser of what he's got hidden away from you. How cruel he is. You want to see him.

"So needy.." he hums, chuckles, as his hands move with the help of the oil from the candle, fingers sliding easily down your back, to find their way around your waist to hold you. "Poor thing.." he mumbles towards you, grabs a bit more harshly at your flesh as if to test, and you want to whine-

But you swallow it down, making Jungkook tilt his head a bit with a smirk.

Not quite there yet, he thinks to himself. But I've got six more days to go to make you mine.

"Tell me what you're thinking." He asks- demands, because there's no question about this sentence you notice. It makes your spine tingle, a sudden urge to please and voice out your thoughts boiling up in your throat, as you let out a breath first and foremost, and he can't help but be affected by it, length in his underwear twitching impatiently at the sight of you so lost in pleasure. Oh the things he'd love to do to you make him greedy almost, mind coming up with scenario after scenario he'd love to see you in.

How long could he edge you until you'd cry and beg for him to let you have your release? Or how often could he make you cum until your body would give up?

How far would you go to please him?

Would you let him hunt you down like nothing but prey, just to feast on you, sex all bite and scratch and nothing but primal urges needing to be satiated? Or maybe you'd rather play his pretty little pet, loyal at his feet, patiently awaiting his command?

There's so many ways he can think of to corrupt you.

And he wants to try them all.

"You-" you answer his earlier question, hiding your face in your arms as you move your hips, grinding over his crotch on the hunt for your release. He'll be easy on you today, won't tell you no, will let you have it if you so desire. "I'm.. thinking-" you stutter a bit muffled into your arms, "-of you..!" you press out, and he can't help his smile from forming as he leans back his body, pulls you a little more roughly over his groin, unable to hide his growl as you become more and more shameless, moving erratically to gain any form of friction from him.

"Good." he sighs out as an answer to you, hands grabbing at your bottom, the urge to hit the soft flesh at least once agonizing- but he controls himself, holds back, just as to not overwhelm you too much at once. Instead, he presses you down, helps the movements of your lower body, earns a whimper as payment for it, and he can't help but be affected by it as well. "The only thing you're allowed to think of is me, understood?" he tests out, and much to his delight, you nod.

"yes-!" it feels like you almost want to say something else- and he wonders what your choice would've been, but he doesn't pry. He's got enough time to find out about it soon, after all- and he can be surprisingly patient, especially when it comes to things he's passionate about.

And god, is he passionate about you.

Suddenly, he wants to know. Wants to test you, despite his earlier choice of wanting to take is soft and slow- as his hands reach out, arms hooking underneath your thighs, suddenly lifting you up, leaving you with nothing before he turns you around onto your back, hands on your hips pressing down, preventing any movement. "Please-!" you beg, and he watches in interest how you struggle against him.

"Please, what?" he asks, acting nonchalant. "What do you want?" he wonders as if he doesn't know, and you look at him like you're searching for something, or maybe you're just collecting courage. For what, he doesn't know- yet.

"Please- let me.. cum.." you try, but it's not quite right for him. You also don't seem uncomfortable with the situation- you seem more like you're holding back, like you're unsure, hesitant.

"Hm, that won't do."he shakes his head, leaning further away, though his hold on you still keeps you still. "Try again." he tells you, and you close your eyes, like you're bracing yourself.

"Please let me cum!" You repeat, though this time with a lot more confidence, and he grins at that, one of his hands taking the front of your panties into it, before he pulls it up, fabric slipping between your lower lips, already drenched in your arousal.

"Go ahead then." he tells you. "Give me a good show, yeah?" he almost sings, and you immediately move, frantically so, hips rolling in desperation as he watches, muscles in your thighs stuttering especially when he helps you assist, pushing you towards your orgasm a lot faster than you anticipated.

It leaves you gasping for air, hips stuttering as you try and catch your breath, core clenching around nothing for a good while. The moment you open your eyes you're greeted with the sight of someone more akin to a demon, a predator, Eden's sin recreated as a human person- the sweat on his skin making him look as if he's glowing, eyes sharp and pupils blown wide, one hand carefully running over your thigh while he other is on his-

oh.

Oh..

There's a clear and surprisingly big stain on his dark grey Calvin Klein's, and you turn red as you realize what that must be. It gives you an odd boost of confidence, knowing that the sigh of you had done that to him- had helped him get to this point, even if just a little. It still counts, you still take it- as he smiles, and leans down to gently kiss your cheek.

"Good girl." he praises quietly, and this time you don't mask your whimper of pleasure, this one of different nature as you bathe in the praise clearly directed at you, you, and only you.

You feel drunk.

But this time, you happily let him move you around, pick you up and carry you into the bathroom, where he helps you step out of your underwear, your state leaving no room to feel shy about your nudity in front of him it seems like. He's used to it- it's nothing new to witness, but considering it's you in this state, he's even more gentle than he would usually be in a situation like this. how can he be with anyone else after you?

He doesn't know. And for now, he won't think of that.

All he knows is that underneath the shower, and later on on the couch where you'll sleep for the entirety of the week, he's got you.

And he'll do his best to keep you at his side forever.

[roxoxoxoxy]

Random Nsfw Head Canons For Riize Maknae line (with Fem!Reader)

( Includes: Seunghan, Sohee and Anton )

Again, there will be so many typos in this so get ready, I didn't proof read this at all.

Also hanis section might not be the best because I got into riize after they put him on hiatus (I hate sm so bad don't get me started) and I have a hard time getting a read on him but I tried

Hyung line, Maknae line

♡ ♡ Seunghan ♡ ♡

I had a hard time getting a read on him at first because he's such a cutie (he doesn't deserve half the shit that he gets OT6 WHEN I CATCH YOOUUUU-)

But honestly after thinking about it a little bit...this man is a undercover freak, HEAR ME OUT

The type of guy to finger you under the table when you're out with friends, smiling and chatting it up with everybody as if he isn't knuckles deep inside you.

He's so sweet too, calling you "his girl" and talking about how happy he is with you as you're struggling to not make any sounds.

That's his entire thing, he'll tease you and be so so mean but he'll do it with the sweetest smile on his face.

I would consider him a strict soft dom, If you're a good girl he'll treat you like a princess, praise you day and night but if you start getting bratty with him, he'll get so mean (in a fun way 🤭)

You bent over as he's fucking you from the back, your face buried in the pillow so you can't beg for his forgiveness whenever he slaps your ass.

"Awe are you trying to say something baby? I can't hear you sweetheart"

Also a bit sadistic, loves leaving marks on you, especially ones that last for days.

Seeing you wince whenever you sit down after he spanks you gets him so hard, literally ready to go for round two right then and there.

As much as he loves when he gets to punish the brat out of you, he also loves when you're his good little girl.

It's been said before but this man is a EATER, if you behave you get your pussy ate till your brain melts out your ears.

His aftercare mainly consists of him putting on ointment where you need it and making sure you're okay, since he's the Dom it's catered to what would make you feel the best.

At your beck and call after sex, the sweetest man alive.

SIGH I MISS MY MAN

♡ ♡ Sohee ♡ ♡

Virgin loser. IM SO SORRY HSHA

I'm a loser!Sohee truther, this man hasn't been near a pussy his entire life, gets absolutely no play.

He's always been too nervous too approach women and when he started training to become an idol he just didn't have the time.

So when he meets you he's all nerves, too shy to say anything, so you'll have to be the ones to initiate things.

Probably the most submissive out of Riize mainly because he's inexperienced and more comfortable with you taking the ropes.

Cums way too fast the first few times you two do it, is super embarrassed about it but he can't help it :(

"shit- sorry- it just.... you...you feel so good I'm so sorry"

Because of that he insists he wants to learn other ways on how to please you, whether that's oral or through his hands.

In the beginning of your relationship he's kinda sloppy but what he lacks in experience he makes up for with enthusiasm.

After learning and practicing a whole bunch I honestly think he has the best head game in Riize, he lives to please.

Same with his fingers, because he has a hard time lasting during sex he got really good at basically everything else so don't worry, you'll definitely leave the experience satisfied.

Also probably the most vanilla in Riize, you're his first and he's still figuring out the ropes, definitely wouldn't be into BDSM.

Maybe over time after you've been together a while but for the time being he's more than happy with missionary.

He does eventually get over his cumming too quickly problem but he's almost disappointed, he kinda liked the humiliation. 🤭

Aftercare is more of a joint activity with him, prefers to both take care of you and be taken care of.

You've gotten in the habit of alternating who gets to be the small spoon.

He also likes to talk after sex but it's more like him quickly rambling before falling asleep mid sentence.

Also gets the cutest bed head the morning after.

♡ ♡ Anton ♡ ♡

Sigh.....MY MAN MY MAN MY MAAANNN okay sorry wait-

This is gonna be long because he's my favourite, tee hee.

I don't think he's a Virgin but he's mostly inexperienced, hasn't really done a whole lot but knows the basics.

I mean have you seen all the shit he was up to? Swimming competitively, playing the cello, being an Idol, this man doesn't have time for anything.

Also another one that takes his time dating you before you two sleep together, I don't think he'd wanna sleep with you if he wasn't sure you two would eventually be official.

Also another switch, leans dom though, specifically soft dom.

This man is PACKING, we've all seen that one screenshot, definitely the "Big and doesn't know what to do with himself" trope.

Would honestly prefer a more experienced partner, tell him what to do because he doesn't know.

Also has a size kink, you could only be like two inches shorter than him but the fact that you're shorter at all gets him going, it's not just about height either.

He's broad as hell so he loves giving you back hugs, especially when you're brushing your teeth so he can see himself engulf you, that visual really gets him going.

Unexpectedly kind of a tease, leans into kiss you but pulls back just before your lips touch his, passing you a big smile when you pout.

Also speaking of him being huge...his hands....okay listen listen.

Whenever he plays the cello I can only think of one thing...

There's no way his clit rubbing game isn't on point, not too hard, not too soft, keeps it at a consistent pace, doesn't loose it mid way...

NEED THAT. DESIRE THAT.

Also his fingers are so long? He has the biggest hands in Riize, I just know they can do some damage.

Loved laying your back against his chest and reaching down to finger you, has a arm wrapped around your waist so you can't push him away.

"sshhh it's okay baby, just stay still. let me make you feel good"

Also loves giving and recieving head, I already wrote a whole fic centered around him eating pussy so I won't go into details about that here.

He loves watching you struggle to take his cock into your mouth, it's nearly impossible to get it all down and it makes his size kink go crazy.

He rarely finishes in your mouth because seeing you struggle to suck him off makes him want to fuck you right then and there.

Gets so sleepy after sex, like wants to fall asleep then and there type of sleepy. He isn't great at aftercare solely because he gets lazy and just wants to sleep and also because again he isn't that experienced.

Will eventually get a hang of it though, will clean you up and praise you, he doesn't even really do it on purpose it just kinda slips out, how you're so pretty, how you feel so soft, how much he loves you etc etc.

Wants you to sleep on top of him because feeling your weight on top of him is comforting.

Really hope y'all like this, writing these was so fun

[megsdoodletag]

yes ok I have been asked about the updated codex let’s talk updated codex

So. Post Plague-Wars. Ultramar system. Guilliman and Yvraine have a strong alliance, and in completely and totally unrelated news have a daughter named Juno Vaeyncaria Guilliman.

MEANWHILE…

on the other side of the Imperium, the Emperor is given a Text-To-Speech Device. Now the original ITEHATTSD obviously happens prior to Plague Wars so while the basic framework is there (kitten exists, magnus is back, dorn and his Boy are there, etc.) it’s obviously a lil different. Through a series of convoluted events we don’t need to discuss at this point, Magnus accidentally pokes the timeline in a weird way and pops the dead primarchs back into existence. They remember everything just fine! They are just. no longer dead. and now in 42k.

This brings us to what I’m affectionately calling ‘2012 Avengers Tower Imperial Palace.’ All the known primarchs are active, though some are still running around 'lost-ish' in the warp. Most of the previously dead primarchs are ‘recovering’ in their former residencies alongside the TTS crew, seeing to what’s left of their legion and figuring out what the hell is going on with. whatever is happening in M42.

Horus in particular is in a weird spot. first, of all the returnees, he’s alone. Ferrus makes up with fulgrim pretty immediately, sang is permanently covered in various marines of his geneline, konrad’s having a Great Time Actually (we’ll get to that later). but nobody seems to like horus much, a position he’s never been in, and this includes his legion which is entirely under abaddon’s control and not going anywhere in the near future. so he does what any guy going through a midlife crisis does and gets himself a hobby.

See, two supposedly dead primarchs remain unaccounted for after Magnus’ spell, namely the two original Lost Primarchs. by logic this means they must still be alive, somewhere. everyone else is unbothered by this, as Malcador’s memory spell disallows any concentrated thought of the two, and even though the primarchs are aware they had more brothers, to their knowledge dad went out to meet with them and something Went Wrong 🤷🏻‍♀️ and then he came back and retired shortly thereafter. weird! oh well.

but horus was not just killed, he was Unmade. when he was reconstituted it was as though he was new, without the stain of chaos.

and free of malcador’s influence.

while ostensibly crashing on dad’s couch, Horus throws himself into finding out what he believes is the key to all of this, the thing that poisoned the imperium before even the Heresy, the original Deviation from the Plan: whatever actually happened to the two lost primarchs?

Ok it’s later now. Konrad Curze always believed in fate. He followed it dutifully into its darkest depths, to his own grisly death.

And then he came back! He never saw anything about that! He figures that, having lived out his fate to its completion, he’s now free of it entirely. Oh he still has visions, but he’s much more lax in interpreting them, and thinks himself above their dictates besides. So. He still likes flensing people and thinks fear makes a fine method of control and hes still got…issues…but he’s not quite as stuck and he's having a wonderful time about it. and he’s also hanging around the palace bc he’s also got very little contact with his legion, which is either scattered or under Sevatar and/or whichever NL prophet we're on now.

So he gets roped into fucking around in emps’ restricted history section with horus! yippee!

The two actually work really well as a buddy-cop kinda pair, with horus slowly repairing his relationships where he can while konrad trails him and learns how to be alive outside of the narrow scope of his futuresight. Magnus inevitably sticks his nose into things and gets to work undoing the mind-block on the rest of them. Alpharius gets involved because it turns out one of the lost legions might actually still exist. and even lion and leman join the hunt cause honestly they're really curious at this point.

Eventually the uncles drag their niece and her friends into the whole ordeal, in part because she happens to have a particularly strong psychic presence that attracts lost and dead marine souls in the warp. Like a cooler, named character version of the Legion of the Damned. Usefull when trying to gain accurate historical info.

oh yeah and emps gets off the throne at some point. he’s not bothering with the Mystery Gang because he’s too busy being one half of a political deadlock with guilliman, where it’s very clear gman does not actually trust him to lead the imperium anymore and is essentially running his own show off-leash from ultramar, but neither of them are remotely willing to like, discuss this. in any way. so instead they’re just stuck awkwardly across from each other, guilliman never offering control of the imperium back to his father and emps never reaching to take the regent position from him and i think if he stopped to think about it this is bc emps would be. a little nervous about resuming full command back from guilliman. because he’s not sure guilliman would give it to him. and he’s not sure he’s in a position to handle that. again. but emps is allergic to being emotionally competent so his brain skates over that thought, unable to confront it directly with any introspection, and instead he just. doesnt mention it! and guilliman doesnt mention it and emps sits in the wreckage of the dream he accidentally set on fire himself while his son methodically does the work to put it out and they won’t look at each other and its fine its all. fine.

and that’s the Updated Codex! 👍🏻 feel free to ask more

thanks to @wolf_feathers12 for the chance to give my ted talk, and tagging @thisuserissilly for lore posts (tm)

[britcision]

My other lil bit of Halloween fun is technically not ready yet but in the spirit of “I want to go to bed”, y’all can have an unpolished lil early snack! And I’ll try and get the good one up over the weekend!

So sit back, relax, and enjoy the Dead And Loving It Halloween Special, The Haunting Of Hood House! (Most of part 1…. Part 2 possibly next year I dunno)

——————

The Haunting of Hood House

Honestly, Jason was fully aware he shoulda said no. Between his now-triple life as a crime lord/vigilante, Fright Knight to the ghost king, and now university student, his dance card was full for more than just every hour in a day.

He was a busy bee. Probably shoulda given university another year or so, to be fair, but that was just the thing. Before all this ghost stuff came along, he’d figured he finally had time for a second half to his life; it was why he came back into the public eye at all.

He hadn’t gone in for the summer semester, counting on the tabloids being a whole ass thing (and they were), but he’d figured that getting himself announced at the New Years gala would give plenty of time for stuff to settle down so he could go to university in the fall.

And then, on Christmas day, he’d met Danny. And his life gained another side whether he liked it or not. And it had been too late to walk back the gala by the time he realized just how time consuming it would be.

(On the plus side, his ghost training was coming along well enough that it was finally helping him cut down on time spent on the crime/vigilante side. He wasn’t exactly up to ol’ Halloween’s standards yet, but he had full control of the powers he currently had, and was learning more about being a Fright Knight from the man himself.

They’d even had time to plan and make a run on their first Lazarus pit, which had gone… as well as could be expected.)

The point being? His schedule was full. Between homework and crimework, he didn’t have time for fun university extracurriculars the way he’d kinda hoped he would.

But when some of the geeks from his Gothic Lit class asked him to help them set up a haunted house… how the hell was he supposed to say no to that?

Danny sure as hell hadn’t been able to (and had laughed his ass off when Jason mentioned exactly why he had to reschedule one of their hangouts - after all, the two of them just showing up meant that the house was technically being haunted), which was how they’d roped in a couple more kids from the engineering department. At least three were planning to use parts of the set up as their final projects.

(Harper was having a field day rigging all of the floors for piezoelectric lights, sound, and fog machine. The more people jumped or ran, the more dramatic the atmosphere would get.)

So, despite already having basically no free time, he and Danny were now partially responsible for setting up a haunted house.

Jason was pretty sure his classmates had initially wanted him mostly as financial backing; ten minutes after agreeing to help, he’d been shyly approached with links to a set building company and day rates to have them build a “house” on the university grounds.

Jason Todd himself would be damned if he would just be the money man though. No, he wasn’t having his name attached to a haunted house project that wasn’t the best it could possibly be.

And, well, he had access to a lot of surplus construction supplies and actual local handymen, in the form of his gang. He was pretty sure most of them knew that Jay, Red Hood’s right hand man, was Jason Todd Wayne by now; it had never actually come up, but he’d made a few media splashes.

No one seemed actually confused or surprised to be asked to come put up haunted house on university grounds. Just the shell though; Jason demanded integrity from goons and student body both, and firmly told the rest of the Lit class that if they wanted to throw a haunted house, they were bloody well going to decorate and staff it with their own hands.

(About two people had been disappointed. As soon as he’d admitted he’d also footed the bill for supplies, all the rest had been eagerly battling it out over room themes and who got to use the nail guns.

Jason confiscated the nail guns on day three, after Danny and Harper got into a “nail fight”. Because of course they did.)

And, really, most of them had also taken Danny’s “contributions” well too. Because along with the more normal special effects the other engineers was setting up, Danny was serious about putting the “haunted” in the house.

“It’s an ecto-accelerator,” he’d explained cheerfully, slapping the large, chunky device that Jason knew full well was at least three blenders jammed together with car parts. “Gotham’s got a lotta ambient ecto for a normal city, so we’ll get half a dozen blob ghosts by the end of the week.”

A couple of the Gothamites in the group had tittered a little at Gotham being called “normal”, but one or two (the ones Jason happened to know were doing way better in their classes) had looked thoughtful. Slightly suspicious.

Cuz yeah, sure, Gotham was far from normal in almost every way, but most of the people were still unaware of how serious the “occult” menaces to the city were. It certainly wasn’t “the most haunted city in America”, and while the Danny/Phantom secret was still well under wraps, Danny being from Amity Park wasn’t.

He’d made waves in the engineering department from his first solo project, and honestly none of them looked too surprised any more.

One of the Lit geeks had raised a hand like they were in class, which Jason had bullied Danny about for hours.

“Uh… what are blob ghosts? And do we want them? Like… isn’t that cheating if you have actual ghosts? I thought you guys wanted to build effects systems,” they added quickly, glancing from Danny to Harper.

Danny had stared blankly for a moment (possibly from the hand raising), then shook his head.

“Oh, no, the accelerator was my project from last semester. This semester it’s gonna be the ghost shield which keeps all the blob ghosts trapped in the house!”

(And should keep the Curse and the asshole entity locked out and away. Not necessarily, y’know, necessary, but it’d be good to see if it worked.)

Harper had just grinned, hands in her pockets.

“An’ it means I have to build my stuff more than just people-proof, which has gotta be worth bonus points.”

Their other two engineers had agreed, apparently completely down with the occult at this point.

The formation of the blob ghosts was apparently going pretty well. Jason couldn’t reliably sense them yet, but he trusted Danny’s word on it.

And Fright Knight’s.

Because yeah. That. Was a thing that was also happening.

This one was also entirely Jason’s own fault; back at the beginning of October, when he’d first agreed to this whole mess, he’d had to tell people why he was going to be busy.

And. Well.

It made sense at the time to just tell the elder Fright Knight the truth about why they’d had to shift their training schedule. He was the Spirit of Halloween! It was even thematically appropriate!

And frankly, the speed at which Danny had started shaking his head and trying to stop him should probably have been a warning.

But so would telling Jason ahead of time not to tell Halloween that they were going to be working on a haunted house! Danny had even shared the story of the time he stole the original nightmare blade, the Soul Shredder as a prop for his own school haunted house!

And, y’know, incurred Halloween’s wrath and started a whole Thing, but he’d also given the sword back and all seemed to be forgiven now.

(Although. Given. The look in blazing eyes when Danny mentioned it. Not forgotten.)

And it seemed to go fine at the time, so Jason had kinda figured it was just another of those things where Danny was weirdly protective of his “normal” life. Didn’t want ghosts getting involved.

Cuz Halloween was very supportive. Agreed immediately to switch up their schedule, no muss no fuss. Offered to help.

And Danny had refused outright, which obviously made Jason want to agree. And Danny hadn’t actually said why he didn’t want Halloween to help.

(Which, y’know, the guy was right there, but still.)

His arguments had basically boiled down to “no one’s supposed to know I’m the Ghost King, we can’t have the actual Fright Knight following me around”, which was apparently the argument that had carried to keep Frighty from following him to Gotham.

But neither of them had known Jason then. And Jason was a Robin; they were very good at loopholes.

Because really, it wasn’t all that hard for an actual ghost to go undetected. Especially if they only popped in for short visits.

And could there be a better haunted house consultant than the Spirit of Halloween?

“Sir Jason, yon webs are sagging.”

The answer, it had turned out, was yes.

“My liege, real blood would serve much better…”

Almost. Anyone.

“BEWARE!”

And apparently the Box Ghost had overheard somewhere that Danny was now allowing visits to Gotham, on the dual condition of short duration and invisibility.

Snatching the box of tiny robot spiders before it could be dumped out, Jason glared at the spot Pitty was growling at.

“Boxy, seriously. We talked about this!” He hissed, wrapping both arms firmly around the box.

A few plaintive tugs, and then the Box Ghost gave up. On that box. And another five cardboard boxes of supplies rose into the air.

“FEAR THE POWER OF THE BOX GHOST!”

“Once the damn house is finished, Boxy! There’s still stuff in all of these. Didn’t I promise to build you a box fort if you could just be cool for another week?”

A blue, capped head popped into visibility behind one of the floating boxes. He did, at least, look mildly contrite.

“Indeed you did, young knight… but! The Box Ghost needs no assistance! There are none more ferocious nor powerful in the world of objects cardboard and cubular!”

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut.

“That’s not even a word, Boxy…” and paused when another breath froze on its way out of his mouth.

So did the Box Ghost, floating boxes stilling from their orbit of the room. Almost on reflex, he popped into full visibility just as Halloween did, directly behind him.

The Box Ghost turned slowly, peering up at the much larger armoured figure. Fright Knight narrowed blazing purple eyes down at him. The Box Ghost narrowed his back.

“None. More. Ferocious.” He growled, boxes rising slowly around him.

Halloween put his hand on his sword.

Jason pressed his lips together so he didn’t laugh. Fighting in the living world was currently a Danny-only activity, with Halloween having the only exception - to stop anyone else trying to start trouble. Technically, throwing down over who was scariest with the Box Ghost was not covered.

And, really, not all that much of a question. Even Boxy knew it, deflating as armoured fingers curled around the hilt.

“But in matters of Halloween and frightfulness I will concede,” he grumbled, boxes settling gently back to the floor.

Halloween pointedly turned his attention to Jason instead, who was still very specifically not laughing.

“Young knight, the woman “Harper” has once again weakened your electrical traps. Shall I destroy her, or will you deal with this yourself?” He asked, voice dropped below his usual booming tones only because Danny had sworn to send him back if another student caught him.

Amusement dying almost immediately, Jason rolled his eyes.

“Look, Sir Halloween. We’ve been over this. They’re hers, they’re not death traps, and you shouldn’t be touching them. You know how Danny feels about electricity around his tech.”

A lot of ghosts seemed to know how Danny felt about electricity in general, and how it related to his death. Despite a temporary team up with Vlad, Jason didn’t actually know if the Spirit of Halloween was one of them.

Until it was proved one way or another, or Danny brought it up to the ghost himself, Jason was sticking with plausible deniability.

And the Fright Knight huffed, drawing himself up as his flaming hair flared.

“If the mere existence of such a trap may displease the King, she should be destroyed with all the more vigour!”

Showing irritation never worked with the old knight; for one thing, he couldn’t stop himself from escalating. He just couldn’t. He didn’t know how to back down.

Luckily Jason was more than used to dramatic and boisterous hotheads. He folded his arms instead, raising an eyebrow at the Fright Knight.

“She’s building the power system, Sir Halloween. We talked about this, remember? Using the steps and fear of the guests to power Danny’s stuff?” And the entire rest of the house, but Frighty only cared about Danny.

And had been over this with him and Danny both half a dozen times.

As always, the mention of fear perked him up.

“Ah, yes! Using their own terror against them to power our devices! And… how does that relate to the electricity?” He asked, a little suspiciously.

Well, if he paid attention this time Jason might not have to go through it again. Putting his reclaimed box down, he leaned against the table it had been on.

“It’s called piezoelectricity. Harper’s sensors in the floor detect where people are walking, and the receptors take the extra energy when their feet hit the ground and turn it into electricity. The faster they walk, or if they start to run, the more energy gets converted, and since the electricity powers the lights, sounds, and fog machine, the more people react the more intense the house gets.”

It was actually surprisingly harmless for Harper; she hadn’t even put in any of the small shock plates that had found their way across the floors. That had been all Frighty, and as soon as they found out where he’d gotten them, they’d be going back. Once Danny phased them back out.

Silence reigned for a long moment, and for once the Spirit of Halloween seemed to be really chewing over and digesting this information. Jason let himself hope.

“So… the electricity… it’s definitely not for shocking the unwary intruders?” Halloween asked, with just the faintest tinge of hope still in his own voice.

Fighting not to let his die, Jason shook his head.

“Nope.”

“Not even as a backup plan?”

“Nope. We want people to come and visit, Frighty, that’s the whole point.”

“But what if your enemies use this opportunity to infiltrate your stronghold?” Fright Knight asked boldly, drawing himself up like he was even now standing against such foes.

Jason bit back a grin.

“It’s not a stronghold, Sir Halloween. There’s nothing here they could use against us.”

Silence again.

Then.

“Not even just a little shock?”

“Still nope,” Jason shook his head, arms folded. Safely hiding where his fingers pinched the skin just below his ribcage, holding in a laugh.

Fright Knight was practically pleading.

“Just a small one? A little static shock? They probably won’t even die from it,” he wheedled, and Jason had to stifle a snicker in a cough.

“No! Look, most people will be wearing rubber soled shoes anyway. They wouldn’t even notice,” he pointed out in what was a mostly level voice.

Fright Knight huffed, turning away and grumbling under his breath.

“Rubber can be made to melt…”

Aaaand they were back on that again. Stepping forward, Jason caught him by the shoulder, schooling his face to his most earnest expression.

“You know your advice is always appreciated, Sir Halloween, and the king and I take it very seriously. Should we ever need such traps, you’re the very first person we’ll ask. But this is a diplomatic venture, and chivalry demands we not allow harm to come to our guests.”

It was a line they’d used before; the very first explanation Jason had hoped the bombastic ghost might understand. And he did, usually.

He just. Didn’t seem to remember it. But then, he wasn’t exactly the overly chivalrous kind of knight.

And once again, Halloween drew himself up and pounded on his chest, nodding seriously.

“Of course, Sir Jason! And I shall ensure that this venture of yours is of the utmost success! With no traps that shall interfere with the Harper woman’s electronics,” he added in a low grumble, probably hoping that Jason wouldn’t notice that he hadn’t just said “no traps”.

Again. Former Robin.

Buuuut so long as they turned the traps off before guests showed up, there was no reason he couldn’t ask the other Bats to come do a pre-show run through and see what they made of it.

Pretending to be oblivious, he turned and scooped up the power drill he’d originally come to the storeroom for and saluted the ghost with it.

“Always appreciated, Sir Halloween.”

**

Danny stuck his hand through the wall, brows furrowed in concentration. He could have used the panel about three feet further down, but then he’d have to reach around at an awkward angle, or yank cables to pull the bundle closer.

Honestly, in his plans the circuitboard should have lined up near perfectly with the damn panel; he’d done his measurements and everything before he started! But no, it was all the way over here, and now he had to deal with this

It was almost like something had snapped off the supports and tangled all the wires up…

There were more cables than there should be.

Again.

No, wait, the intruder wasn’t a cable. It felt… like a rope?

Fighting the urge to bang his head against the wall, he sighed heavily. The temptation to just yank the damn thing out was tempered only by the sounds of construction, impromptu karaoke, and occasional screams of every other member of the project.

Who knew what Fright Knight had rigged this one to do, or where it would actually go off? Other than, y’know, completely fucking his own wiring.

Danny breathed out slowly through his nose, shifting his grip until he was only touching his wiring and not the rope, and phased the whole lot through. He’d turned almost everything off to go wire-spelunking anyway, so it should-

A loud thunk behind him preceded a sudden silence where a low humming had been pretty much ignorable. Danny grimaced, but kept going until the junction was back in place at the access panel before letting it rejoin the physical world.

The ghost shield didn’t immediately power back up, but that was fine. He could give it a couple kicks, maybe try a hard reboot if it was really fussing.

More importantly, he had to find what the hell the Spirit of Halloween had done now. His ecto-accelerator was working as expected, and blob ghosts would all be kept around to feed on the concentrated ectoplasm anyway.

Really, he’d been shutting the shield down anyway to let Halloween in and out.

Maybe he should stop doing that…

Then Danny brightened up.

It was Jason’s fault Halloween was here at all. And it was Jason’s class’s haunted house.

This wasn’t a Danny problem, this was a Jason problem. And maybe next time the stubborn fuck would listen when Danny said something was a bad idea.

Humming cheerfully, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent off a quick text, wandering idly back towards the ghost shield generator. One quick kick and it chugged back into life, good as new.

He was gonna have to put some internal batteries in on the next rebuild though. It had to be able to survive a power cut to be worth anything in Gotham.

Flicking into his notes app, he added it to the list of improvements.

While he didn’t actually know where Jason was, he was pretty sure he wasn’t close enough to hear Jason’s response to his text. That was fine though, because he could feel the pulse of exasperated-resigned-annoyed the second he saw it.

Humming happily to himself, he dug out the extra set of cords to let the lights dim in time with any power surges from the ghost shield. It’d only take a few seconds now that the damn board was back in the right place, and should add some extra spooky ambiance once the house started seeing guests and he turned off the accelerator to let the blob ghosts play.

Really, he owed Harper for the idea. He’d been explaining to her how the little guys always chewed on power cables, lack of physical teeth or not, just to get to the current. And technically what she’d actually said was “man it’d be cool if we could get them to fuck with the lights”.

And technically Danny could probably have trained them to actually play with light switches. This would be much easier though, and interestingly random as the blobs bounced around.

All he had to do was hook up these last few connections… and test it out.

And since Halloween was clearly around anyway… he was definitely big enough to make the ghost shield hum a bit. That’d be great for calibration.

And he owed Danny for fucking up his circuitry with his latest booby trap anyway. It all worked out nicely really.

By the time Jason poked his head through the door, Danny was just finishing the last of his adjustments, almost every wire properly soldered into place.

“What’s he done now?” Jason sighed heavily, exasperation both so clear and so clearly a put on that even a normal human would probably feel it radiating off him.

Danny nodded towards the stretch of wall near where he’d last seen the rope.

“No idea, but he’s tied something to something else that got in the way of the ghost shield controls. I fixed that, the inevitable booby trap is all yours,” he added sweetly, blowing Jason a kiss as best he could with both hands busy.

Jason pretended to chomp it out of the air like a shark, and then puke it out. He was getting creative.

Danny could respect that.

“Great, thanks,” he said sarcastically, then frowned at the offending section of drywall. “Is there-“

“No, the access panel is over here,” Danny told him brightly, twisting the last screw down to hold all of the less permanent wires in place. Really, at some point he should probably put a casing over the whole mess. Keep any damp or curious critters out.

But any curious critters were going to be a little busy avoiding curious ghosties, and the ghosties wouldn’t try and move the wires. That’d stop them from being able to siphon the electricity.

Little fuckers.

Maybe also some extra ghost shielding. Hell, the power going into the shield was controlled from this panel, and the main power cables were nicely strung along the back. How hard could it be to extend a little extra shielding…

Jason cut him off from the thought with a heavy, dramatic sigh, thunking heavily into the wall just beside Danny.

“Great. We got time to take another panel out and fix it again?” He asked semi-redundantly, taking in Danny and Heather’s carefully applied pattern of sprayed on filth and decay.

Grinning and straightening, Danny cracked his back and moaned happily.

“In your dreams. Halloween’s a week away, and we open this weekend.”

“So how do you want me to track the trap, your majesty?” Jason asked with a heavy roll of his eyes.

Danny grinned up at him. All the brighter for the sass.

“Oh, that’s not my problem. I’m not the one who said he could be such a huge help,” he shot back cheerfully, taking the moment to roll out his shoulders and do a couple of twists too.

He spent a lot of time hunched over between classwork and this little side quest, and while he wasn’t suffering for it yet, he’d rather not start.

“Besides, do you have anything else to do?” He pointed out with a cheeky grin.

Jason raised an eyebrow at him, arms folded.

“About a million things, yeah. But none more important than making sure our guests don’t get electrocuted,” he added with a sigh, turning to frown at the wall. Reached out and knocked against it gently. “Wish I could just bring the hood out.”

“A little x-ray vision would be a big help,” Danny agreed, already looking for his next task. Would he have time to fuck with the ghost shield a little more to protect the board?

Probably not. While the machine itself was already doing excellent work as the centrepiece of a truly excellent mad science lab (although not up to Fenton standards), it still needed a quick coat of grime of its own, and probably some webbing.

Most of the rest of this room was ready, between Harper’s piezo-floors and Heather’s expert spray paint skills. So long as the shield could affect the lights throughout the house, he could probably finish here in half an hour.

Or delegate to Heather, once all the parts of the ghost shield were safely protected from rogue spray.

Danny could have run by the 3D printers in the Makers Club for some custom shielding pieces, but why bother? Leaning into his toolbox, he pulled out a roll of duct tape.

Glancing back, he was pleased to see Jason’s quiet was because the big guy had already stuck his head in the wall.

Sure, officially no one here was supposed to know about either of their ghost powers (Harper being the obvious exception), but no one was around. And it’d save time dismantling the trap so they could get back to work.

The Lit nerds had come up with the full floor plan by themselves, and while only a couple of them got nail gun privileges, they’d all been excited to get hands on.

And had clearly been relying on their giant tank of a nerd for some of the more hard to reach set up.

Danny could get it floating, or they could schlep ladders around, but why bother when Jason could reach the top of every doorframe already?

Once Jason was done dismantling yet another booby trap.

Reaching out with a foot, Danny gave him a light kick in the ass, knocking a shoulder into the wall.

“Dude, just go invisible and trace it directly. Painting’s gotta be finished tonight to be dry for tomorrow,” he reminded the larger man when Jason pulled his head out to glare at him.

“Such insightful. Very wisdom,” he snarked, straightening himself and returning said glare to the wall.

Danny snickered.

“I’ll tell Tucker you’re after his Miette status.”

“I’ll tell him you called him that again,” Jason shot back immediately, flipping Danny off without looking.

Touché.

Rather than concede the point, Danny got back to his own efforts instead. Time to tape up any cracks and crevices except the heat vents… and yeah, actually, putting a suitably ratty bag or strip on linen to cover those (both for spray paint protection and to flap dramatically) would only add to the atmosphere.

“Just get going while we’re still young and pretty.”

He could feel Jason’s amusement too, a warm balm on his back even over the exasperated-tired-over it from Fright Knight’s continued escapades. Felt it when Jason changed, his aura amping up automatically with his ghost form.

“Yeah, yeah. Why don’t you get your subject in line and remind him we’re not trying to kill anyone?” Jason asked, immediately phasing through the wall to get the last word.

Danny rolled his eyes despite the grin, carefully taping around the joins in the main control panel.

“What, again?” He muttered under his breath, chuckling softly.

As far as he was aware, more than half the problem was that ol’ Halloween wasn’t actually all that clear on what was lethal to humans at all. And that? That wasn’t a problem Danny could solve.

Technically, he could Command the spirit to stop putting up booby traps. Force him into an advisory role only.

(And yeah, Danny had to admit, for all he was a pain in the ass? He’d been right about adding a couple extra googly eyes in covert spots on the bubbling slimes. Super creepy when one rolled up and looked at you.)

Except that Danny hated using his Command on anyone, even when they were being a pain in his ass. It was creepy, kinda gross, and made him feel like a dick.

Besides, with ghosts it was actually way politer to just smack someone upside the head if they were being a shit. Hell, that was usually why they were being a shit.

Danny hesitated, a new thought blooming slowly.

Could… that be why Halloween was being a pain in the ass? Jason’s training hours had been cut back, but their time spent with the original Fright Knight was actually going up now that he was “helping” with the house.

Did he just want their attention? Or was he bored enough to fish around indirectly for a little ghostly rumble?

That would also have to be Jason’s problem, he decided with a philosophical shrug. Like most of the other older ghosts, the old Fright Knight actually avoided throwing down with Danny these days.

Whether it was the same fear that made him bend the knee to Pariah Dark or just plain not wanting to risk even a temporary win and the burden of the crown didn’t actually matter. It wasn’t loyalty; Halloween had been eager enough to bend the knee to Dan, but Dan also commanded him to run around wreaking terror and mayhem.

Danny mostly just asked him to wrestle with any ghosts who tried anything in Amity Park while he was gone; a duty Halloween kicked ass at and seemed to be taking seriously, but wasn’t his idea of fun.

But hey, it got him out of his pumpkin, and out of his lair without the fear of someone trying to seal him again. So long as Frighty mostly obeyed Danny’s orders, no one could even try it without having Danny come kick their ass.

Maybe Danny should let him wreak a little havoc in Gotham on Halloween though. As a treat.

Not his usual “turn inanimate objects into hordes of ghosts to take over the world” shtick, but since Scarecrow usually had dibs on the holiday (and was still decidedly out of action), some of the up and coming rogues were looking to make a name for themselves.

A not particularly nice smile pulled at Danny’s lips.

After all… apparently no one else had ever tried anything on Halloween while Crane was out and about. It could only be a good thing for Gotham as a whole if someone else staked an emphatic claim this year.

Aaaand it’d keep Frighty out from under their feet, or setting up any more booby traps while they got the last details into place.

If any of the bats objected, they could take that up with Jason too. After all, this whole thing was his idea.

**

The Spirit of Halloween drifted through the house, muttering disconsolately to himself.

All he wanted to do was what he’d been asked; to improve this “haunted house” his king was constructing.

It was certainly a better effort than the one which had first brought the ghost boy to his lair; that had been a single room, and a rather pathetic showing. Bouncy spiders, inflatable figures, utterly unfrightening.

This house had some real potential! Between the elaborate traps the humans were setting in each room and the far more convincing decor, it would be so easy to make something truly terrifying.

All it needed was some more sharp edges… something a little heavier to hang above the doors… and while apparently electrical traps were out of the question, he was sure that something horrific could be done with those powered floors.

Possibly an eject port. Those were new and the potential fascinated him ever since the doctors Fenton showed off their new flying seats.

If the king would only give him a chance, Halloween was sure he could turn this building into a true House of Horrors.

But no. Once again, his ideas were discarded. They would undo his modifications to the floor (and frankly he was rather pleased with how he’d managed to warp its purpose without transforming it into an independent entity; he’d needed to make use of young Sir Jason’s “phone” to learn to adjust the voltage the human way. He’d used his hands and everything because the king did not want him using his blade).

Honestly, why would you invite such an expert if you did not wish to use his advice?

And he wasn’t even supposed to let these foolish humans know he was here, so he couldn’t properly howl his woes to the winds.

Grumbling under his breath instead, he stalked back to the nest of wires he’d modified. If his work were to be undone, he could do it. He was here to help, if they’d just let him.

“Who the hell are you?” A sharp voice asked from behind him as he knelt before the nest, and he froze.

He wasn’t in the habit of being covert; that had been about the most interesting part of the whole debacle thus far.

He wasn’t a stealthy ghost. His presence was part of his armoury, inspiring fear and awe in all who could see him coming. Which only worked if they saw him coming.

He’d forgotten to be invisible.

For all that the king’s wishes had been annoyingly vague, there was just one thing he’d been explicitly clear on.

No mortals were to see him.

Very slowly, his helmet creaked around to face the glowering young mortal woman in the doorway, her hands on her hips.

He. Could. Use the Soul Shredder to send her to her own nightmare dimension. Then no one would know she’d seen him.

Except that the king had forbidden him from using his sword. And the young knight liked the woman Harper and would likely notice her absence.

Wretched nuisance.

She also didn’t seem the sort to scare easily, which he usually appreciated in a foe.

Even under the glare of his blazing purple eyes, she marched straight up to him, hands on her hips, and glowered.

“Are you the asshole who’s been fucking with my power supply?” She asked sharply, actually prodding! Prodding him! With her feeble mortal finger!

And he was unable to appropriately respond!

And if she were a true ally of his king, simply fading from sight would only affirm what he was in her mind…

For a brief moment, he wondered if he could persuade her that he was the Box Ghost, but discarded the idea immediately. No, he was no coward to hide behind another’s name!

Especially not that lowlife.

He would face the punishment from his king, content at least in the knowledge that it would be just, and would not maim or destroy him.

Which meant not smiting the puny mortal who’d rumbled his plans.

Unless…

She was an ally to the young knight. And fearless. And endeavouring to build and properly haunt this house. Perhaps she could be of aid to his own mission…

Which meant he had to be (a grimace hidden entirely under his helmet) tactful. Appealing even.

Straightening to his full height, he then bowed just below hers.

“Indeed, Dame Harper. I must apologize; Sir Jason has informed me of the true intent of your most excellent devices, so I came to repair what I have wrought.” It grated on him, a ghost of his calibre forced to treat any human as an equal… but less than it used to.

A useful opponent, and a worthy one, was hard enough to find. And… horror of horrors… under his new king, he was almost… getting used to it.

She didn’t seem overly impressed, folding her arms and giving him another, more sceptical once over.

“Yeah… and from that get up, I’m gonna guess you’re probably not from the university,” she said dryly.

The Spirit of Halloween cursed internally. Of course! That would have been the perfect excuse! A mere student in a costume! His time of year was all about disguises!

Yet already he’d declared his association to the younger Fright Knight by use of his title. She had already seen through such a potential escape.

Still, it meant she was observant. Passably intelligent. Good marks in an ally.

Better to act like he’d never intended to deceive her, though. It may let him glean some more insight into just how trusted she was.

“I am not.

From lands beyond and sights unseen

Your cohorts called upon me for aid

To plan a magnificent Halloween

So that all who enter be truly afraid.”

One of his better works off the cuff, he thought a little smugly… then deflated a little.

“I was not aware your devices were not some form of trap,” he added in more normal tones.

The corner of her mouth twitched upwards, although her stern expression did not change.

“Uh huh. Yeah, ghost bullshit was gonna be my next guess. You thought the generators were a trap?” She asked, a little incredulously.

Sir Halloween shifted uncomfortably. He still wasn’t used to explaining himself, and wasn’t sure how little he could get away with.

“I believed them an excellent tactic to terrify and incapacitate any land-bound intruders,” he agreed cautiously.

Definitely a smile pulling at her lips this time, though she fought it. Perhaps she would be more amenable to his suggestions than the halfas…

The Harper woman sighed and uncrossed her arms, hands on her hips once more.

“I guess they would work pretty well for that… but nah. I prefer more direct methods if I’m gonna fry someone, don’t want anyone else getting caught in the crossfire,” she added with a wicked gleam in her eye that he very much liked.

Then she pointed her chin at the wiring he’d been about to restore.

“Go ahead and fix that up then, and I’ll decide if I forgive you.”

Commands from a mortal rankled, but it was to do as he’d intended anyway. And would give him more time to assess her potential.

From his understanding, this woman no longer hunted the night, but had been a mighty hunter while nought but a child. Those habits were hard to break.

About to turn back to the panel, he hesitated. If. She was going to watch him work. He would need to remain visible.

And there were far too many mortals in the house.

“Ah… Dame Harper. I have been commanded to remain unseen by those unaware of the Infinite Realms. If you wish to observe, we shall need to ensure others do not come across me.” He hoped she would assume that he hadn’t been meant to hide from her.

He wasn’t sure if he’d succeeded as her smile became distinctly wider and far more devious, looking him up and down one last time.

“No one’s allowed to know about ghosts, huh? And you’re not exactly a subtle one. No worries, I have the perfect plan.”

**

Grumbling to himself as he pulled the last of the blades from the swinging arms Sir Spookier-Than-Thou had set up through the upstairs and downstairs hall, Jason gave the mechanism one last look.

He could dismantle the whole thing if he had to, but that’d take time. And besides, it was pretty good work.

All he had to do was slow the swing a little, find something a little more family friendly to add to each arm, and it’d be a pretty bangin’ addition to their haunted house.

He wasn’t sure if he should tell the Spirit of Halloween that or not; if he’d feel better knowing his work was appreciated, or get over excited and back on his bullshit.

Either way, someone was going to cart these mysteriously glowing blades back to the Ghost Zone that they’d surely come from, and it wasn’t gonna be him. About six of his classmates were waiting on him to help with some final additions, and while most of it could pretty easily have been done with a scaffold, they didn’t have time to build one.

Not when Jason could just reach up.

Or a couple of the other guys could just stand on a bucket, but hey. His room was pretty much complete, all he needed was to test the spring loaded launchers on his “batarangs” and he was done.

(The day he’d discovered the cute, stylized little marshmallow bats he’d known exactly what he had to do with them. B was just lucky it had been close enough to Halloween that Jason decided to go with this first.

It did make a nice test run for the Bat Cave though.)

There might be a couple more cosmetic tweaks, some spit and polish, but he’d be essentially ready.

They weren’t exactly in competition, no scoring or voting or anything, but the Lit geeks in particular had been gushing and bragging about their own horror rooms from day one. Some of them were honestly really impressive; Heather’s 13 Ghosts setup that Danny had hooked the ghost shield into was extremely well designed, and used pretty much every inch of the master bedroom.

Ray and Tyra had both gone with more classic horror (and adjoining rooms; Jason particularly liked the chase from Tyra’s Grimm fairytale forest to Ray’s werewolf lair), and they actually had four different set ups featuring Bram Stoker’s Dracula.

While those might have been more obscure before Dracula Daily (and included less internet jokes), Jason enjoyed the narrative that started in the back room of the first floor, up the stairs (the road to castle), a gorgeous crypt, and then the final ascent to the roof and the opportunity for guests to “climb” down the wall (in lizard fashion, obviously) over an air bag or take the “Descent To Hell” (an inflatable red twirly slide that Danny still wanted to slick with dish soap. Jason and OSHA both disagreed).

There wasn’t exactly a unifying theme beyond “horror”, but they had at least planned ahead enough to group the rooms by type. The decorations along the halls to gradually show the genre changes would be the last things going up, but Jason was pretty sure the new swinging arms would be a great addition.

It wouldn’t be a seamless change, but it would be on brand.

And sure, technically his own Phantom of the Opera room was also one of the outliers from a thematic and stylistic perspective (because he’d chosen the book, not the stage show - although he had snagged the score and had a play around in an editing suite for background music).

He’d taken the “basement” for the forgotten halls below the opera house, so it didn’t really matter that his dripping stone, hall of mirrors, and final Grand Decision were a lot more classically gothic than the rugged and rural first floor, or the more urban and scifi second. He’d been able to source a bunch of old theatre dressings from a recent rogue attack, so it had been easy to set the bones up.

It was a great house, and while he’d been a little worried about the size when they’d drawn up the plans, they were pretty much on schedule.

Despite the interference of the Spirit of Halloween.

Who was gonna go drop stuff off in the Ghost Zone, and maybe just stay there until the night itself. Jason couldn’t give the command or make it stick, but Danny could, and probably would if the Spirit mucked with his new tech one more time.

For all that he insisted this whole mess was Jason’s fault (and therefore Jason’s problem), he was the one who decided how far any of it went.

Wondering idly what he could suggest to get Frighty back under Danny’s feet, he tossed the last blade in a decidedly triangular box and hoisted it quickly.

He wasn’t entirely sure what the blades were made of, or what they’d do (the Soul Shredder was a unique weapon that he hadn’t made himself, but Jason had no idea what he could make), but he wanted the Box Ghost to get his hands on them even less than he wanted his fellow students to.

All he had to do was find ol’ Halloween… and the big guy never really bothered to shield himself. It took very little focus to expand his aura through the rest of the house these days, and he didn’t even need to get past the first floor. The Spirit of Halloween was at the back, the room below Danny’s where Harper had her main boards and batteries set up for ease of use.

(It wasn’t technically part of the attraction, but she’d still made it look spooky and on theme in case anyone peeked around the door.)

But the Fright Knight had better be in there fixing things or hiding from people, not fucking with the piezoelectrics again, or Jason was gonna start a training session of his own on the spot.

(Not that he’d reliably win a regular fight; he was damn good, but the Spirit of Halloween was older, more used to ghost powers, and loved his sword and duels almost as much as he loved poetry and terrorizing the wretched.

But on Earth, with more than half of their powers denied them by Danny’s rules? Jason could come for his ass.)

————

Listen. This is not the universe for short oneshots, okay?

But there are some sneaky hints for the road ahead in our main timeline too, for attentive eyes 👀

Happy Halloween!

[rockscanfly]

@noshirdalal's (Charles Smith's actor from RDR2) response to the prompt: "What do you think would have happened if Jack Marston’s bounty poster had come across Sadie and Charles’ desk post-epilogue? What, if anything, would Charles have to say to Jack?"

I trimmed the video for length (damn you, tumblr), but you can find the full 15 minute version on Cameo (where all y'all should go chuck your Charles questions as soon as you get a chance) here.

As usual, Noshir blew me away with the depth and care in his response. His headcanons are one of my absolute favorite part of being in the RDR2 fandom. Highlight from the transcript:

I like to think that Charles would have—and I imagine Sadie would to, but Alex would know better—I like to imagine that Charles would have taken the time to try to find him. To learn the kind of man that Jack has become.  I can imagine Jack sitting at a bar somewhere, I mean drinking whiskey or something and noticing a really large [laughs]. A really large man sitting kind of also at the bar but much further down just watching him. I think depending on what was going on I’d like to think that if Jack was in trouble at the time Charles would try to help him. Because he, ‘cause he has to.  But I can also see him watching John—I mean watching Jack from a distance. Getting the measure of the man. Helping him when he can, anonymously. You know if there are bounty hunters or enemies that are following him maybe he thins the herd a little bit. Betters Jack’s chances. But maybe he almost doesn’t have the heart to actually say hello.  There’s also something to be said for the idea that a man pays his debts. But also, like Charles has to recognize that Jack is a grown man. And a man also walks his own path. I can’t hold his hand, I can’t change the past. And who am I to know that the path that Jack is on is wrong? Would it be fair for me to try to deprive him of the justice he seeks?  Man, I don’t know. But it would hurt Charles, real bad. I think that would hurt him real bad. That's a wound he would carry to his grave. 

Links to other Cameos and transcripts that Noshir has completed in the past can be found here.

Full transcript of full vid below the cut:

What's up, Rocks? Hope you’re doing well. Sorry, it's getting down to the wire and I’m just, just got back a little while ago from Manchester in the UK and just getting home from VO [Voice Over] Atlanta [2025]. So I’m teaching a performance capture class there so I’ve got like a handful of minutes left to get this in so I’m trying to get it in and not have it fall through. So. 

Rocks always asking the [chuckles], the thought provoking questions. So. What happens when a poster of Jack Marston comes into my possession when Charles and Sadie are—in my headcanon—collecting bounties, kinda working together?

Well, I think the first thing that Charles would do is share it with Sadie. You know, Sadie and Charles are there with John when he—when WE think we’re bringing resolution to all this strife. When we think we’re kind of closing this circle and hopefully bringing the cycle of violence to a close for the Marston family. 

I think Charles and Sadie—I’m not gonna speak for Alex, or Sadie—but I would have to imagine. I would like to think they mourn together and also mourn in their own ways. 

I don’t know if it actually made it into the game, but there was, really early on in my sessions I had, like, hours of performance capture with the young, young actor playing, like, super young Jack. Taking him through basic tracking stuff, you know, the difference between a raccoon’s tracks versus a, you know a bobcat. A mountain lion’s tracks versus, you know, various deer and bear and stuff. And I think a little bit of—I remember I researched, like you know, traps made of like rope and stuff you could find like out in the wilderness, deadfalls and stuff like that. I don’t remember if we actually did that stuff but like. 

I think the gang…Jack is kind of like the gang’s son, right? Hosea like teaches him the importance of knots by like hiding it in, like, teaching him how to fish. I think everyone kind of came together to try to equip Jack with the things he would need to know to survive while still trying to celebrate the fact that he’s a kid even in these hard times. 

I haven’t played either of the games but I’ve seen images of Jack from the end of Red Dead. I didn’t really think much of it but now looking at those images as Charles, like through the eyes of Charles—how heartbreaking, I think that would be for him. 

To know that. To know that John tried so desperately to create, to create a home for his family, right? For Jack to grow up not knowing a life on the run full of violence. He really tried to go legit. And you know, Uncle and I helped him build that house from nothing. 

That house I think was kind of the symbol of the closing of that chapter. The idea that things can begin anew, that if we’re willing to put in the work that we can have a fresh start. That we are not chained, you know, like ouroboros. Like we are not bound to this never ending cycle. If it isn't a life that we want to live. 

And, you know, my best friend…was dying, but his last moments were hard in effort to give John—and through John, Jack—hope for a peaceful life. 

And, I mean the look on adult Jack’s face? He’s so angry. He’s so angry and so hard. And I think these are hard times and there’s lots of hard men and hard women as a result: survivors. [Looks off at a car making obnoxious noise] [quietly] For fuck’s sake. 

But, um. But even if it was naive or wishful thinking or just ridiculous hope—I think Charles wanted so badly for things to be different for Jack. Especially because I think Charles leave the Marstons feeling so good about the work he’s done. And so proud of his brother John for the work he’s done to reinvent himself, you know?

They had built a place with their own hands that is worthy of bringing John’s wife and son home. They’d built them a home. And to see Jack so angry and so alone after everything that’s been done I think would be really, really hard for Charles. 

I wouldn’t be surprised if Charles has to step away and like spend a week out in the wilderness just to get away from the noise of, the noise and kind of bustle of the every day. And grieve, in his own way. And come to terms with it. 

I mean, I wonder like, the idea of like a wanted poster for Jack Marston—I wonder if like, can you imagine if somehow Charles and Sadie were just blissfully ignorant of everything that happened with John. What a way to learn. But even if they werent, I think this is probably the worst fate they could have imagined for John’s son. For Jack. 

I like to think that Charles would have—and I imagine Sadie would to, but Alex would know better—I like to imagine that Charles would have taken the time to try to find him. To learn the kind of man that Jack has become. 

I can imagine Jack sitting at a bar somewhere, I mean drinking whiskey or something and noticing a really large [laughs]. A really large man sitting kind of also at the bar but much further down just watching him. I think depending on what was going on I’d like to think that if Jack was in trouble at the time Charles would try to help him. Because he, ‘cause he has to. 

But I can also see him watching John—I mean watching Jack from a distance. Getting the measure of the man. Helping him when he can, anonymously. You know if there are bounty hunters or enemies that are following him maybe he thins the herd a little bit. Betters Jack’s chances. But maybe he almost doesn’t have the heart to actually say hello. 

There’s also something to be said for the idea that a man pays his debts. But also, like Charles has to recognize that Jack is a grown man. And a man also walks his own path. I can’t hold his hand, I can’t change the past. And who am I to know that the path that Jack is on is wrong? Would it be fair for me to try to deprive him of the justice he seeks? 

Man, I don’t know. But it would hurt Charles, real bad. I think that would hurt him real bad. That's a wound he would carry to his grave.

[gotham-daydreams]

Okay we see how Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim and Cass become Yanderes for reader what about Damian, Steph and Babs?

That question is exactly why I'm kind of debating on making a kinda "Part 2.5" sort of thing, and it would show how Tim and Damian got further roped into things like Bruce, Dick, Jason and Cass. Along with how Steph and Babs take the news of "heyyy, um. you know Y/n? yeah that one sibling of ours that's lived here for years that we've barely have like, 10 conversations with collectively? Yeah, that sibling. Uh, we just figured out they've basically been living an entire life without any of us knowing, and might've run away because we were barely involved in their life despite them making multiple attempts to have us be there. So, we kind of need your help to find them. Like. Now-"

Though honestly I'll just put the run down here, so-

Bruce kind of gave Damian the little push he needed before hopping on the train, kind of like what he did with Jason but a little different. With him finding Damian, and some questions being thrown around, before Damian just decides to help look for you.

Honestly I can imagine that Damian wasn't super serious about finding you or anything at first, and was more so just trying to help because Bruce and Dick were looking for you. Hence why he looks for Alfred first with the intention to get the search done and over with. Though, that does begin to change a little when he eventually stumbles upon your room and gets that small glimpse of all he's missed out on after having talked with Alfred.

The room itself doesn't necessarily get to Damian — not like it does with Bruce and Dick — but it's more of the contents of the room itself that get him started on the yandere path.

Honestly, how Damian and Tim begin to develop their more Yandere thoughts and feelings for the reader is through finding something in your room, leading them to find more stuff, and that eventually getting to the thought process of "i didn't know they did this... i would've liked to know about this before/share this thing with them." Which then leads to a more yandere-like mindset.

For Damian (since we're already on the topic of him), he finds that one art award that you got, and becomes curious. Eventually he finds the unfinished art pieces that Bruce had found earlier, and while he isn't impressed or anything at first, the more unfinished pieces he finds the more he kind of begins to see your potential, and that leads to his own thoughts on the matter. With him wishing he knew about how you liked to do art too, and that eventually leads to him thinking that he could've helped you refine your skill, and the both of you could've drawn or painted together.

What strengthens that mindset is when he gets his hands on a notebook that you had used to practice whatever you were struggling with, and left notes for yourself on how you could improve upon certain things as well. Maybe if Damian had known you were into art before, he could've helped you, and you both could've improved together. Refine each other's skills, and just be able to create together. Which Damian really begins to like the thought of. Especially as he sees how you improved the deeper into the notebook he gets.

So, he also sets out to find you, but with a more positive mindset and thought process.

Honestly, out of everyone, Damian is the least worried about you and your well-being. Not because he necessarily has faith in your abilities to stay alive in Gotham, while also potentially being by yourself, but rather he isn't focused on that part? Not as intensely as some of the others, anyway.

Besides, if you were to turn up dead, then he'd have the "you die, I kill you" mindset. You aren't allowed to be dead or 'missing' in his mind, and so you aren't until proven other wise — but even then he's going to need a lot of solid proof to even believe it.

Damian is just more focused on the "we have a common interest and I want to do this thing with them" part of learning that you're into art. Even if you aren't anymore, just knowing that it was something that you used to do is enough to get him jumping on the yandere train. You'll be doing art with him one way or another, and you can't do shit about it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Sure his reasoning isn't a strong, but it's enough to get him started and to go looking for you with the others when they eventually start tearing Gotham apart in hopes to find you. Damian now has a sudden need for quality time and your his main target, sorry not sorry.

Tim on the other hand just sort of, stumbled upon your room, and thanks to Dick was very quickly roped into this mess (as mentioned in "Not Here").

He actually looks through the box with all of your more personal belongs first as Dick tries to call and text you like crazy, while also trying to figure out more stuff.

The first thing he minds is an mp3 player, which, again - as mentioned in "Not Here" held very early versions of songs you were working on at the time, along with some of the very first songs you ever wrote. Which, after listening to a few of them, is immediately a big fan. Though that ends up being both his downfall and how he begins to develop his more yandere tendencies.

Like Dick, you had tried to call and message him about certain performances and such you thought he'd like, and hoped he'd attend, but to no avail. It sucks even more for Tim now because if he had just given your music a chance just a little sooner, maybe things would've been different between the two of you. Maybe you wouldn't have left.

Not to mention that, since he now really loves your music - just knowing that he's wasted so many opportunities to hear more of it, and the completed, fully fleshed out versions of some the songs on the mp3 player makes him upset. He really feels the hit of neglecting you, and that hit only lands harder when he goes through that 'List/Progress' notebook that Bruce had seen earlier in "Not Here".

A notebook which does reveal a lot about you, and how you only did so many activities because you hoped that if anyone in the family was into one of the activities/hobbies you tried, then you'd be able to bond with them over it. Though look at where that got you. Countless awards hung on your walls, with a number of accomplishments to your name - and yet not once were you able to use them for their original purpose. Not once were you able to hold a full, long conversation with any of them about any of the things you've done.

It wasn't even your fault because you tried to put in the work, Tim could really see that now, but you just weren't given the chance to actually put it to good use.

Maybe that's why he ended up helping Dick as much as he did, and maybe that's why he took the time to download some of your songs before heading out to look for you. He wanted to feel closer to you then he really was, and wanted your music to be something shared between the two of you.

Tim wants to not only get closer to you, but to hear everything you've ever made music wise. A want which he fully intends on making a reality.

Stephenie and Barbara are a bit different, however. Since, as stated in "Not Here", both of them are informed of what's going on after everyone else but Damian and Alfred absolutely loses their minds over you not being in the Manor. Though, again, both take the news a bit differently.

Between the two, Steph easily feels the worst. So her motivations and actions — like Bruce, Dick, Jason, Cass, and Tim — are more out of guilt and regret. She already doesn't like the thought of her own neglect having caused you to keep so many things to yourself that you basically hid yourself away, but the idea of her — along with everyone else — having pushed you so far away that you ran away? That... doesn't make her feel good, to say the least.

Sure, she doesn't feel as bad as Bruce or Dick - who easily feel the worst because of their respective roles in the family, and them feeling like they failed to even be a semi-present figure in your life for you to recognize them as your Father and Older Brother (to which they are correct, but aren't aware of that yet) - but it's still enough for her to try and look for you too.

Kind of like Bruce when he was looking in the Manor, Stephanie doesn't know where to start looking, and that only worsens her regret.

I guess her development comes more with time? Since the more she and the others look, not only do her feelings grow, but she also learns more about you as everyone starts sharing information over the intercoms. Things they just found out about you — like how you spent your birthdays alone with Alfred and had waited for them each year until recently, how you made music, what kind of competitions and such you've participated in, who were your teachers, how majority of what you did wasn't even for yourself - but rather a chance that one of the many activities you did try out was something anyone of them were into, so that way you could actually have a conversation with them - and more. (Which may be shown later? Not in a official post/part to the series but perhaps in a sort of side thing that shows the mayhem going on. But who knows?)

Case and point, while they are all looking for you - Steph slowly becomes more yandere for the reader the more she learns about you and how her and the other's actions impacted you. Like some of the others, she wants to make it up to you, but isn't entirely sure how she'd even go about doing that. The more aware she becomes, the harder she falls.

Barbara on the other hand, I'd say, is more lowkey as of now when it comes to her development as a yandere?

I mean, Dick, while very much panicking, basically told her it was an emergency and he really needed her on the bat computer because he had to look for you. Which, in the same breath, gave a list of locations and possible teachers you might've had in the past (you can thank Tim for trying to figure all of that out) and if she could look into it.

It's safe to say that Barbara's introduction into the whole situation was very chaotic. An emotional, worried, and panicked Dick is never a good one, so that was fun to deal with while slowly drowning in confusion.

Eventually, she got the run down and was quick to help, but like Bruce, Cass, Damian, and Jason - she was more confused at the start.

Ouf of everyone, and maybe besides Jason, Barbara has had the least amount of interaction with you - and the room for possible interactions with you for her were much smaller anyway considering that you aren't a vigilante, and never intended to be. So, it only makes sense that one of the people you've easily had the least connection with, was the person who communicated and mainly interacted with the rest of the Batfam when they're doing vigilante work.

What didn't help is that she barely even saw you at events or even holiday gatherings and such the family would have, with you being so neglected that they just... failed to even notice you missing at the time. The day she was introduced to you was when you were first adopted, and that was basically both the first and last full interaction either of you have had with each other. Other than that, she would hear small comments about you sometimes from the others, but even then it wasn't much and those soon died out as one could've guessed.

Even when she was in the Manor, she might've caught a few glimpses of you, but nothing else - so the beginning of her fall into being a yandere is definitely much slowly and lowkey when compared to the others.

I feel as if this whole situation may encourage Babs to want to get to know you better? After all, your disappearance did cause the whole family to basically start a whole manhunt just to find you, so I feel as if that would be enough to get Barbara interested at the very least. Not to mention all of the things she's hearing about you from everyone - it would be nice to try and actually meet you, not just know about you.

In other words, I feel as if Barbara may develop more as a yandere in part 3, seeing as I can see her more yandere tendencies begin to develop once she actually 'meets' you. Y'know what I mean?

So tldr; Damian becomes a yandere for the reader by finding out they're into art/have done art in the past, and now has a deep need to bond with them.

Steph becomes a yandere through her guilt and regret, and like some of the others, want to make it up to the reader.

Babs, on the other hand, hasn't exactly become a yandere just yet, but will once she 'meets' the reader and see them for herself. As of right now, she's just curious, but we'll get there in part 3.

Also, this is unrelated to the ask, but I would like to point out how pretty much everyone in the Batfam thinks you ran away rather then you just leaving. Do what you will with this information for now :]

Anyways, I hoped that answered your question, even if I got a bit rambly! If there's anything else in particular anyone else would like to know, feel free to send in an ask!

[directdogman]

Hey doggo, I finished season 3 of squid game, how was it for you?

Personally, im feeling like davetrap in dsaf 3 after the legacy ending. Not well.

Its also 5am so imma try to head back to bed after this

I watched it and I gotta say, I felt disappointed. I really liked S1, kinda liked s2, and felt they had more potential to really wrap things up, but somehow it wrapped up less cleanly than s1's cliffhanger ending (instead going for a second cliffhanger ending with less clean arc resolutions overall.)

I didn't hate everything in it, dgmw, but it doesn't seem like they really learned the right lessons from what people really loved about S1 and actually somehow went backwards despite having a lot of useful feedback on what they could've done better. I'll give some examples. (spoilers below)

I was really excited to see the VIPS again bc their inclusion is the one thing everyone who saw s1 agrees could've been better executed. I read that the VIP dialogue was really stilted because it was translated badly and they just didn't have time to rewrite it before the scenes were shot (even though the main VIP guy in the lion mask had line revision suggestions to sound more natural.)

Somehow, it was arguably worse this time around, despite them having time to get help with the lines. Really unnatural dialogue that worsened the scenes people were the most excited to see. It would've been very easy to fix the dialogue's phrasing. Hell, they could've hired me for $10 and a sandwich! I'd have done it!

The CG baby was really off-putting and also completely undermined its own inclusion, as the audience would obviously care less about an uncanny CG baby than a real one, esp given all the close up shots of the face, which badly conflicted with the visual style of the show. They could've 100% used a doll for the faraway shots and then filmed the closeups separately to the action.

Using the theme of bartering for the safety of an innocent life works less effectively when every time there's a closeup, you wince slightly at what's being saved. The fact the baby was also unnamed on top of it meant it acted more as a macguffin/symbol than as a character, which I get was a writing choice, but with it also being CG, it led to the narrative closing around a character that essentially was just an unnamed CG object. Not crazy satisfying.

I also wasn't crazy on the ending of Gi-Hun's arc itself, which basically just ended with the exact thesis statement of The Platform, another Netflix original with the same themes/commentary, with Gi-Hun taking Goreng's place, saving an innocent child after being corrupted and declaring "the child is the message. the child is the future." I think the Platform executed this idea much better and having the crypto-bro sacrifice himself for his kid would've been more narratively satisfying, as it would've refuted the Front Man's point in the same way S1 ended with a refutation of Il-Nam's point, that some humans ARE good, and Gi-Hun getting to raise the child and being a better father this time around would've been a better followup to the promise he made.

The cop arc also largely went absolutely nowhere and could've been removed from the show entirely after S1. All that time spent on boats.

Though, I did think the game ideas were largely good (though the rope bridge was pretty much a 1:1 equivalent to the glass bridge from the previous season. I think the human chess theory was way cooler.) I liked them fleshing out the wimp character and making him snap.

The "one more game!" guy was fantastic, top tier character (though I felt his ending wasn't as satisfying as it could've been. Given the amount of debt he had, the logical way to end the character fittingly would've been for his followers to realize that even with the 'required' number of deaths per round, he logically would've needed another corpse to escape his death, and realizing they had no reason to let him live. he sorta just died like the others, with that point basically going nowhere.)

I also liked the arc of the eliminated entrant getting saved from death and getting to rejoin his sick kid. That arc was genuinely very well resolved and did kinda make me smile. I also liked seeing some flashbacks of the frontman as a player, but would've liked way more in the place of the boat scenes, thanks.

So, yeah, there's some good things in it, but I have to say, it didn't seem like they exactly knew what they wanted after finishing s1.

[jays-bonnie-on-the-side]

𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐀 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏

PAIRING : dean winchester x original female character

STORY SUMMARY : in series masterlist

CHAPTER WARNINGS : age-gap. pining. fluff. language. family time with the winchester brothers. baby fever (kinda) if you squint.

A/N : mostly filler but in a good way, learning about ofc.

Maricela's POV

I hadn't realized how long it had been until the moment I pulled into my mother's driveway. After graduation, I hadn't been home very often. My parents weren't the biggest supporters of me becoming a hunter. I guess the danger of risking my life to save others wasn't very appealing in their eyes. For a while, they blamed the Winchesters, figuring they were the reason I got into hunting.

No matter how many times I played the 'I still would've become a hunter, help or not' card, they still didn't like the boys. Something about me living with two men almost a decade and a half older is 'unnatural.' And to make matters worse, they found out Sam was the one who trained me. I'm just thankful they don't know about my crush on Dean. Besides what they know already, I try not to bother them with the other aspects of my job.

For the past week and a half, Sam kept me updated on everything. Dean had basically turned into a dog. Then, he and Cas worked a case together while Crowley helped Sam and Kevin translate the tablet. And finding out Dean was in a home for boys at 16. As it turned out, he had quite the life in those few months—gone as far as winning a wrestling championship. My heart broke for the man; He had a chance at a normal life but the hunting one still roped him back in.

The boys were on their way to the bunker from New York so I got ready to meet them there. Children's screams fill the house. My siblings were arguing over who got to watch the TV in the living room. A knock sounds at the front door, causing the house to still. The moment quickly ends once they begin arguing over who would answer it.

A heavy sigh escapes my lungs, annoyed that I would be the one to do it. I walk out of my sister's room, down the hall towards the door. As I pass the living room, I shout at the kids, telling them to shut up just before opening the front door. My favorite men stand before me, their faces lit with smiles, bringing out one of my own.

"Hey!" I pull Sam into a hug. "What are you guys doing here?"

He answers as we pull away. "Well, we were on our way home when Dean thought it would be a good idea to surprise you."

"Really?" I lift a brow at the eldest Winchester, unable to resist a smirk.

"Well...we've never even met your family, and after what happened—I don't know—I thought it would be nice to see the place you miss so much."

"I guess it's the least you could do." I roll my eyes and flip my hair, faking my exasperation.

"Shut up." His deep voice non-threatening, earning a teasing chuckle from me.

"Who are they?" A little voice asks from behind me.

I turn around to see my little brother, Emilio, standing from afar, eyebrows drawn in curiosity as he stares at the men.

"These are my friends."

The brothers wave. I step away from the door and usher them inside. They stood beside me, prompting Emilio to observe the obvious: "You guys are tall."

The Winchesters chuckle, nodding in agreement.

"That's because they ate their vegetables," I respond.

"Ohhh. So I'm guessing you didn't know that when you were growing up?" He asks.

My eyes widen at his sassy remark. The hunters snicker, finding my brother's unfiltered question hilarious. "Why, you little..."

He runs to the living room, giggling with each step. I turn on my heel and hit each Winchester in the arm, attempting to silence them. We walk into the space where my siblings watch on, observing the unfamiliar men. I gesture towards my friends, introducing them.

"Children, this is Sam and Dean." I point to each kid, teasing, "Guys, this is Thing 1, 2. 3. 4. and 5."

They correct me immediately, introducing themselves. Shortly after, they disperse, doing their own thing. My mom finally comes from her room, stunned once she sees the Winchesters. Her eyes rarely leave the men as she walks toward us. A nervous smile crept on my countenance, bracing for her words. So, instead, I beat her to it.

"Ma, this is Sam and Dean."

"It's nice to meet you." Sam holds out his hand for my mom to shake. She pauses, contemplating if she should accept it or not. Finally, she takes his awaiting hand.

"You too." She utters, moving over to shake Dean's next.

"Mari didn't tell us she had an older sister," He says with his charming smile, his tone suggestive. I quickly nudge his side, glaring daggers into his skull. "Ow. What?"

"That's my mom, you fool."

"Funny." She responds with zero amusement. Awkward tension hangs in the air. "I'll be in the kitchen making lunch."

We nod, and she walks away. I let out the breath I held, glad the worst had passed. It went way better than I thought it would. After all, my personality was copied and pasted from my mom's. My dad has a similar personality but is more fearless, something I think he passed on to me.

We sit on the couch, the same one they sat on all those years ago while interrogating me. My youngest brothers, Jose and Emilio, had stayed, playing Mario Kart, and the older boys, Josué and Luis watched, each picking a brother to root for. We watch them play against each other, and after the first round ends, Emilio grabs extra console remotes and hands them to the Winchesters.

"Can you play with us?" he asks.

"Uh, yeah, bud. We can play, but we're not very good." Sam admits.

The eldest Winchester huffs cockily. "Speak for yourself."

"Dean, when have you ever played this?"

"A few years ago."

"Oh, really? With who?"

He hesitates, diverting his glum gaze toward his remote. It became obvious; Dean was thinking of Ben. His relationship with Lisa ended just before we met. Sam told me Dean spent a year-long hiatus from hunting after he thought his brother was trapped in the cage. I knew better than to bring it up, whether he knew I knew or not. Sam realizes who Dean implies, so I clear my throat, distracting from the tense silence.

"Why don't you guys play for a bit? I'll be right back."

I push myself off the couch and head towards the kitchen. My mom was gathering ingredients as I walked in. She closes the pantry door and turns to me. Her face wore a blank yet annoyed expression. A look I had seen often growing up, her patience wearing thin.

"Hey, Ma..." She crosses her arms, and I throw mine defensibly. "What? I'm sorry. I didn't know they were coming. I would've asked you if it was alright."

"So why are they here? To take you away again?"

"Now, you know that's not what happened. Besides, I told you I was only staying for a week, but I stayed longer." My eyes shift into the living room, watching the boys play. "My job is to keep people safe, and I'm good at it. Especially with them by my side."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" She asks, sarcasm laced with her words, drawing my attention back to her. "You're living with boys twice your age."

"See, that's not true. Dean's only 16 years older, and Sam's 12."

"Dean's older than me!"

"Only by a few months!" I exclaim but quickly shut my mouth, realizing I was only worsening my case.

My mom and the man I love are the same age: 35. She had me at sixteen, just a month before I was born. People judge her for having me at such a young age but fail to give her the credit of how far she's come. I couldn't imagine being a child and having one of my own. But despite the ups and downs, I couldn't have asked for a better mom.

"I know you worry about me and my safety, whether with monsters or those boys, but I couldn't be safer than with them. And if it makes you feel any better, there's no...there's never been any...I've never had or done anything with them...if you know what I mean."

"You mean sex?" Heat rises to my cheeks. I've always hated talking about that subject with her. It was awkward and embarrassing.

"Ugh! Yes, mom. That." I roll my eyes.

She uncrosses her arms, her lips curving into a smile. "Good. Keep it that way."

"Trust me, you've got nothing to worry about.”

As I stroll into the living room, the last player crosses the finish line. Sam, Dean, and my youngest brother had lost—groans of defeat and a cheer of triumph echo within the living room. Jose's eyes fog with tears, and a frown holds back his cries. Before I scold him for being a poor sport, Dean steps up.

"Hey, it's okay," he pulls the little boy into his side, rubbing his arm for comfort. "Second place is still good."

He stares at Dean, anger lingering in his composure. "But I didn't win."

"Well, you beat me and Sam! Which means you're way better than us."

He shrugs, "I guess."

"At least you weren't in 7th place."

"Shut up!" Sam hollers, shoving Dean's shoulder.

"What a loser," Dean quietly murmurs, earning a chuckle from the once-upset child.

A grin appears on my face, watching the scene before me. My heart soars with bliss. He handled the situation better than I would've. His eyes wander toward mine, his smile growing wider. God, I wanna have his babies.

"All right, boys. I think it's nap time." I call, snapping myself out of the trace.

"No!" "I don't want to." My brothers whine.

"Not you two. Let's go, Winchesters." They set the remotes on the coffee table and followed me into the hallway. "I know you guys had a long drive, so why don't you rest for a few hours while I plan something for us to do?"

"Okay."

They don’t argue. Instead, they choose a room and drive into the beds once they’re made up. I close the doors behind them and leave them to rest. Walking into the living room, I ask my brothers the question I already knew the answer to.

"Who wants to go to Target?"

"Wake up," I shake Dean awake.

"What?" He groans.

"I gave you your four hours. Now, it's time to get ready."

He sits up, his eyes level with mine. "Where are we going?"

A smirk pulls at my lips. I hold up the swim shorts I bought for Dean. It was black with blue palm trees. His eyes dart to the shorts, the area between his eyes shaping into a 'v.'

"The beach."

"The beach?"

"That's what I said."

"And I'm supposed to wear those?"

"Unless you wanna wear nothing at all. I wouldn't mind, but there will be children present, and I do not need you scaring my siblings."

He rolls his eyes while scuffing. "Shut up."

I get up from his bed and toss the shorts in my place. "Get dressed. We're leaving in 10."

"All right."

Just as I was about to exit the room, I stopped myself. "Before I forget," I remove the flip-flops from the bag and leave them near the door. "I got you some chanclas—sandals, whatever you call them—too. Figured you didn't own any."

"Thanks."

I leave the room for him to change and go into the bathroom to change into mine. Once I finish, I wait in the living room with the rest of my family, minus my mom. Sam joins us, waiting for his older brother. Finally, Dean steps out and walks down the hall. He carries his boots in one hand and his clothes in the other.

"You ready?" I ask, subtly checking him out.

"Let's go before I change my mind."

Everyone except my mom and oldest younger brother grabs their stuff and exits the house. We walk towards the vehicles when Jose tugs on my white, woven cover-up.

I look down and nod for him to speak, "What's up?"

"Can I go with them?" He asks as he points to the Winchesters.

"Sure, babe, but you have to ask them."

His face falls, and his shyness sets in. I roll my eyes before chuckling, knowing he wouldn't ask, so I had to on his behalf. "Hey, D," I call and he turns around. "My brother wants to know if he can ride with you guys."

"Hmm..." He looks up in thought, then pretends to have a solution. He leans down and holds his hand up to my brother. "Only if I can have a high five."

My brother quickly complies and runs toward the Impala. Having overheard the exchange, my other two siblings beg to ride along with the Winchesters. I throw my hands in the air, having been abandoned by my so-called brothers. Sam and Dean shrug as they sport cocky smirks. I hold up my car fab and pop my trunk.

"Whatever," I place my tote bags in the boot. Shutting it, I say, "Just follow me. Boys! Seat belts!"

The younger boys jumped into the back seat and did as they were told. The men follow suit as my sister and I get in my car. Once everyone's ready, we take off to the beach.

"I hate sand," Dean utters as he dusts himself after letting my brothers bury him.

"Go wash off in the water," I recommend as I lay in the shade of the umbrella.

My youngest brother runs up from the lake and asks, "Mari, can you go in the water with us?"

"Sorry, babe, it's too cold."

A little frown appears on his face, and his shoulders slump in disappointment. His mood didn't last long. Dean storms over and, in one quick motion, grabs and tosses me over his shoulder. I scream and pound against his back in protest. The closer he walked to the lake, the more my body thrashed, hoping to break loose.

"Dean! Put me down!" I demand.

He ventures into the water, walking until he's waist-deep. Then, my insistent pleas cease. "Put you down, huh?"

"No," His sandy hands grip my hips. "Nononononono! D, please."

"Plug your nose, sweetheart."

"NO—!" He tosses my body into the ice-cold lake. I frantically swim to the surface, gasping for air once my head is above water. "You bitch!"

Dean, along with everyone else, laughs uncontrollably. I push through the water, trying to get closer to the Winchester. He quickly sees my anger as I get nearer, and he dives underwater. I look around but can't find the jerk anywhere. Suddenly, a swift tug at my legs pulls me under. Water rushes up my nose before I can register what happened.

My limbs flail, trying desperately to get above the still surface. Once I do, my body gets engulfed in Dean's embrace. His body shakes with laughter as I cling to his body, trying to catch my breath. I tremble with adrenaline as his hand brushes away the wet strands stuck to my face. He lifts my chin towards his face.

"Y-you're an a-asshole."

He kisses my forehead and begins to walk us back to shore. "I know."

We get back to land, and he puts me down. I grab a towel and dab my body dry. The kids, including the two my dad dropped off, played near the water, building sandcastles. I open the cooler and grab a water bottle. A mischievous smile grew on my face. Perfect! I thought.

"Kids!" I holler, getting their attention. "Get him."

Without hesitation, they run towards Dean. His eyes widen in fear as he takes a few steps back, mouthing, "Oh, shit." My four brothers and two sisters tackle the oldest Winchester and pin him down. I stroll over, taking in the sight. He struggled against their hold, shocked they could keep him down. I walk between his legs and then straddle his torso.

I lean over and whisper in his ear, "You might have a soldier, but I have an army. Don't mess with me."

Dean gazes towards his brother, asking, "You gonna help me out?"

Sam watches with a smile as he enjoys seeing a group of children pin down the strong hunter. He shakes his head, admitting, "Hey, you got yourself into this."

With a grin, I unscrew the bottle cap and hover it over his head. He shakes it, pleading for mercy. Payback! I pour the liquid over his mouth and nose, waterboarding him. Once I emptied the entire contents of the bottle, he spit the water out and gasped for air. I hold my hand up and ask Sam to throw me another bottle. Without hesitation, he tosses me a second one. The kids giggle as I pour it over Dean's face, enjoying it as much as I did.

"There," I push off his chest and stand over him. "Now we're even."

"Yeah, yeah. Now, get your freakishly strong siblings off of me."

Once I step away from the oldest Winchester, so do the kids. I sit back on the beach blanket next to Sam as the children run off and play. Dean sits beside me and nudges my shoulder with his.

"Hey, thanks for today. Sam and I never had a beach day before."

"It's nice to have a distraction from everything that's happened and what's to come." I stare into his sea-green eyes. "I'm so happy you guys decided to come. I can tell my siblings like you both."

"Yeah," He chuckles. "Maybe they can come to the bunker sometime, come visit. After all, it is the safest place on earth."

"I'd like that."

“Just promise never to waterboard me again.”

I laugh and lean into him. “You don’t drown me, I won’t drown you.”

“Sounds like a deal.”

I counted my fingers, making sure I had everything I came with. Once I was sure I did, I loaded my bag into Baby's trunk. I go back inside and say goodbye to each of my family members. Since I was going away again, my mom invited them over for a farewell dinner. Once I reach Josué, I hold up my car keys.

"I swear if you let anything happen to it, I will hunt you down and murder you."

His eyes widen, completely surprised. He got his license recently, and I was told he's a very good driver. "You're giving me your car?!"

He reaches out for the keys, but I move them before he can take 'em. "Eh, eh, eh. I'm letting you BORROW my car. I want it back, so it better be exactly how I left it." Since we constantly use Dean's Impala, my car doesn't get driven much. And given the horsies underneath the hood, it practically begs to be taken out.

"I promise!" With some hesitation, I hand over the keys. And with a gesture we never do, he pulls me into a hug. Given that he's taller than me, my face buries into his chest.

"All right, all right. Get off." I pry his arms off me, and he beams as he shows everyone his gift. A smile pulls at my lips, and I see my mom wait by the door. "Bye, Ma."

She huffs before pulling me into a hug. I knew this hug. It was silent, and I knew she was holding in her sobs. When I heard her sniff, I lost it. We held each other tighter, not wanting to let go. We stood there for a few minutes, trying to gather ourselves.

"You better be careful," She demands.

A stiff laugh falls from my lips, lightening the mood. "I will, I promise."

Finally, we let go. We wipe our tears away, along with the sadness. After we’re composed, my mom looks at the Winchester brothers standing behind me.

"Keep my daughter safe, or I'll kill you both."

They nod and answer, "Yes, ma'am," "Of course!"

My mom opens the door, and the hunters file out. We kiss each other's cheeks and say, "I love you."

I wave to the rest of my family and exit the house, meeting Sam and Dean in Baby. She purrs to life before Dean drives away. I stare out the window, watching my mom's house get smaller until it's no longer in sight.

"You got a big family," Sam points out.

I chuckle, admitting, "And that's just my mom's side. Don't get me started on my dad's."

"It's nice that you have a big family. I wish we had that."

"Well, you're my family now. So mine is yours." I tell the boys.

And even though they didn't say anything, I watched as small smiles stretched across their handsome faces.

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[ironunderstands]

Shit I want to happen in DDBA season 2

MATT AND FOGGY REUNION SCENE. It better be 5 minutes long. It better have Matt incoherently SOBBING. I don’t care what you have to do for this to happen writers GIVE IT TO MEEE E

Matt secret identity reveal. I doubt Fisk would do it (because if he wanted to he already would) but man the drama that would come from that would be DELICIOUS and I also want to see Matt being the one on trial for once. Murdock vs the people of New York would go so hard.

BB getting revenge for Ben with the help of Karen. I want her to document EVERY corrupt thing Fisk is doing and reveal it to the world, and if Karen’s the one helping her then it’s a full circle moment from the og season one.

4. MORE KIRSTEN SCENES. With what little we have of her I already adore her and I want more!! Also although shipping Matt with everyone is basically mandatory already, I love them together and I need more.

5. Heather and Matt dramatic ass breakup. Honestly I like Heather way more than everyone else does because at least to me the point is that she is Not Good For Him and vice versa, so if this comes with a betrayal too… ugh I’d love it. She basically already did by agreeing to work for Fisk, but doing that in a more in your face manner would be so good.

6. Angela taking on the White Tiger mantle + Matt mentoring her. A) I want more White Tiger stuff B) I love Angela (nobody talks about her either :c) and I want her to avenge Hector’s death and get officer Powell’s bitchass C) I think seeing Matt in a mentor position would be really interesting and I also just love seeing superheroes learning the ropes.

7. FrankKarenMatt love triangle. AND A PROPER ONE. I know Disney would probably rather kill themselves than let Matt and Frank be bisexual but man it would be so much fun. At the very least let them let Karen have her two bad bitches at once, she deserves it.

8. The Defenders + Spider-Man joining the anti-Fisk army. I have faith that they’ll probably include the Defenders in season two, or at least Jessica (man if they let Luke become Mayor after Fisk too that would also be great), but for Spidey even a cameo seems kinda hopeless with how Sony is acting. Marvel I’m gonna need yall to put up a fight for this one because you’re making Peter look like a fraud + his and DD’s friendship is too good not to expand on.

9. Dex v the Fisks but it actually works out for him. Yeah it’s kinda inevitable but I want him getting proper revenge on them for how they used him + I also want him to find a new North Star who’s actually good for him (and who preferably doesn’t die horribly RIP Julie). Lowkey still wish Ray was alive because I think he’d actually be a good role model for Dex and even if Dex was lying when he was trying to befriend his family I think it would be really sweet if he got to do that for real. He’s such a good character man.

10. Officer Powell getting the snot kicked out of him again. It’s already a running gag and I want it to continue. They should let him live for the sole purpose of letting the rest of the cast body him whenever they desire.

11. BRING BRETT MAHONEY BACK WHERE IS HEEEE. Make him the new police commissioner when this is all over. If they give that role to fucking Cherry I’m gonna lose it.

[apinkladyapple]

More thoughts Abt married smokestack long ass post I hope this isn't boring lol idek if it's coherent its my a stream of thoughts, I just kept going. (I thought posting this as it's own post would be a good idea)

They got drunk together probably, Smoke is holding his twin from behind and they're basking in eachothers presence for a bit while they lay on their bed. Stack is the first to break they're peaceful silence, "You thinking really loud, wanna let me in?"

Smoke let's a light huff come through his nose

"you ever think about getting married?"

Out of left field question but smoke's never been one for build up and dramatics, unlike his brother "nah, not for me, why? You think I should?"

"it's not too bad," a hesitant pause, stack could tell smoke was holding something back, he had that far away look in his eyes, weighing the pros and cons of his next words but then "I mean your damn near living the experience now."

Stack could feel his brother tighten around his waist, like he was afraid Stack would jump out of his arms at any moment, but he didn't, not moving a muscle.

Smoke and Stack never labeled their relationship, never bothered with titles or ceremonys, it was there way of avoiding coming to terms with the fact that yeah they we're basically a married couple.

They had everything but a wedding arch and matching rings. A bed they layed in together every night, deep longing looks into eachothers eyes, shared meals at the table, kisses goodbye in the morning, comfort in eachothers arms, date nights that they passed off as 'brotherly bonding'.

They had been a lot more then brothers for quite some time, but over the last couple years they had fallen deeper and deeper into this comforting little nest they made for themselves, kinda reminded them of Chicago.

Their own little safe haven, away from judging eyes and proding ears, just them. But they never acknowledged what 'them' was exactly. And this time their carefully crafted pocket of paradise wasn't to hide their secrets identities or thieving ways, it was to indulge, in something much more intimate and much more perverted.

The excuse of "were just twins you wouldn't understand" can only go so far. Especially when one of the people you're trying to convince yourself. Not that many people stood up the question them in the first place, but if you can gaslight yourself, then maybe it'll be easier to get other people to believe it too. That guilty conscience always came knocking eventually.

Like ropes tying them down from fully immersing themselves in one another, The only thing holding them to a little moral high grounds they thought they held. Despite all the killing, stealing, lying, this is the one hurdle that for some reason was too big for them to jump over, and oh how they wanted nothing more but to learn to fly.

Finally, after a long and tension filled pause, weighed down with too many unspoken truthes, Stack replied. "Yea we'd dress up all fancy like, surrounded by friends and family, under some classy church, profess our undying love, kiss, throw some flowers around, and dance like idiots." It was said in a sarcastic tone, just a joke, a drop in the bucket of the thousands Stack makes every day. Smoke felt something though, a feeling similar to that giddy excitement for gossip, he might blame it on the alcohol in the morning.

They fall asleep in eachothers arms, letting the conversation lay like a thick blanket over them, tucked in so tight they could almost fuse into one, they rested easy that night.

- The next day, in the afternoon -

"The hell we going? Com' on tell me!" Stack was always impatient, Smoke smirked too himself remember all the times that had got them in trouble, he wouldn't trade it for the world.

Smoke gave his brother a glare that to anybody else might be a threat but he knew it was merely a warning, no malice attatched. "You got me all dressed up and I can't even know where we're going?"

That morning smoke had made a nice breakfast, Stack walked out from their shared bedroom in a shirt he took from his twins wardrobe, "Smells good, ya gonna eat that all by yourself?" Smoke could hear the smirk on his brothers face, he brought the two full plates he made to the table while pulling out a chair and gesturing for Stack to sit down, and with a peck on smoke's cheek he did.

They sat across from eachother, Stack giving his compliments to the chef as they ate, chatting over the newspaper Smoke had brought for Stack to read, and enjoyed the sunrise as the rays of light fall on their faces, neither of them bother mentioning when they catch the other staring anymore.

After they were mostly finished Smoke got up picking what dishes he could off the table, after a minute of washing them he hears Stacks chair shift, footsteps coming up behind him, a plate is placed in the sink. The warmth of his twin wraps around him in a tight embrace he missed even if it was only for little while, but he always did. They begin to sway stubtly and Smoke paid him no mind as Stack kissed along his jaw, pacing himself moving to his neck, then his shoulder, slow and deliberate.

Smoke takes his hands away from the dishes, drying his hands off with the towel near by to pull away from his brothers affections, turning around to look his brother in the face, he didn't need his heart racing this early in the morning. After admiring his mirrored face for just a moment before speaking up, "I've got something for you."

Smoke knew it was a bad idea to tell him so early, get him all giddy just to make him wait till sundown "We're almost there now" he could feel Stack get antsy as they walked, he had told Stack to pick out the best suits they had, do their hair just like he loved doing, Stack had been playing dress up with them both since they were young. A small body of water made it's way into view, trees hung above them, the sunset slowly setting in like a puzzle piece, the light flowed through the leaves, weaving through to meet the the pond, shimmered on the water, it was like a painting.

Stack side eyed his twin for a second, an arrow of suspicion thrown at Smoke. He'd never known his brother to be the dilly dallying type, going places just to smell the roses, but it was nice here. They sat in that serenity for a good second as the sun settled on the skyline, then Smoke broke their silence. "Well it's not exactly what you said but it's something, and it's us."

Stack's eyes damn near went crossed trying to catch up to what Smoke was running for, and he finally reached it. The eye roll he gave towards his brother was damn near audible 'you can't be serious' Smoke gave a look back 'when have You ever known me not to be?'

Stack held that eye contact half of him embarrassed, part amused, and quite perplexed. Smoke was the first to break, Stack felt his brother taking his hands in his, he scoffed and gently tried to pull away, Smoke's grip on him tightened. Looking down at their hands, Stack trailed his eyes up his twins body studing every inch he traced and met his eyes again.

That look.

A look so deep you could drown in it, a look full of yearning, a look weighed down by truths untold, a look with a guilty conscience that just kept knocking, A look that said 'can we please just, stop denying ourselves?' with a tiredness so severe that was only obtained by a working man.

Stack pulled him in a little closer, nodding his head coming to terms with the message that Smoke was trying to relay. "Are we doing this?- do you want to do this, Elijah?"

'Admit what we've known deep down for far too long? Bring it to the surface, sit with it face to face?' All the words that went unsaid but words weren't needed now, just eachother, and the bond they had, a bond so close it scared them, but not anymore.

"I do."

The words left Smoke just above a whisper, but firm, he was sure. And with that they let that fear, shame, guilt, wash over them like the Mississippi River. It might not change much on the outside, but it mattered, something in their relationship shifted, like a cat fish let loose, free now.

Liberation that tasted so good, they basked in it, in eachother and the love that flowed between them. Their hearts started to pick up pace in sync, a slow smile creeped up on Elias' face, it was so genuine and goofy Elijah couldn't help but let out a huff laugh, pulling his brother into him fully pressing their bodies together as close as they could get, smiling into Elias' neck holding onto him like he was the only thing anchoring him to this earth.

Elias pulled his head away just enough to look at his brothers face, take him all in, the panting from his slightly parted lips in a crooked tired smile, his eyebrows pinched together, his eyes full of desire, he was perfect. Elijah, steady and patient, leaned forward sharing Elias' air, foreheads almost touching. His hand came up to grab his twins face, he paused. Despite all the kisses they shared everyday, this one felt different, felt unadulterated.

Elias gave the most subtle nod, but that was enough, and their lips met in a messy and passionate kiss. They were grabbing at everything they could, Elijah's hand pulled his brother in by the back of his neck, the other gripping his waist with a possessiveness. Elias had his hands tangled in the others shirt by the shoulder, a second hand on lower back. All movement was eager and heated, like they were gasping for air that they had been deprived of for who knows how long, holding themselves back for their entire lives, never giving in to desire without berating themselves for giving in, but not now.

They finally break the kiss, panting into eachothers mouths, Elijah keeping his grip on his brothers neck, holding their foreheads together. He swallows.

"I got something for you, almost forgot."

Look of confusion dawned on Elias as his twin dug something from his jacket pocket, two simple matching rings. Elijah looked up to study his brothers every micro expression, Elias let out a chuckle. "This is silly," he said with a cheesy smile etched across his face and holding a hand out waiting for the the ring. It slipped on him like a glove, he took the other in hand, taking Elijah's and sliding the ring on slow.

"Ain't too shabby, forgot you had taste at all." He spoke with that classic playful smirk and teasing eyes he always had, Elijah could fall in love with him all over again.

They sat in that peaceful scene until way too late into the night, holding eachother and looking into eachothers eyes like nothing else existed, like true rest had finally found them, it was in whatever they're relationship was, and they were gonna stop denying themselves of enjoying it.

[radioroxx]

da bebes ;-; <3

THE BABIES <3 (link to og fankid post)

using this ask as an excuse to share some thoughts we had about the kids interactions with the others from the party! depending on some disc screenshots to help me lol

hehe!

OK FIRST. MIRABELLE

absolutely absolutely she is the type to spoil the kids. with candy and sweets and late bedtimes she just cannot say no to them ever she is far too fond. and yes she would read to them. she picks out book she especially likes, or ones that she enjoyed as a kid, and totally not as an excuse to talk about these characters she loves so much nooo-

(as long as the books are. age appropriate ofc. not too scary for the youngins,,)

on top of that she would be very easy to talk to! isa and sif do make sure to always be emotionally open with their kids, would never want them to feel like they cant talk about something, but even then. sometimes its nice to have someone else to depend on. just in case. and mira loves to chat with em :)

NEXT. ODILE

odile cares for these kids oooh so so so much. she would never admit it but, much like the rest of her family, she would do horrible horrible things to make them happy. even if she. isnt the best with kids. in general. shes trying her best and the kids definitely thinking her dry humour and sarcastic bluntness is funny as hell

also she is 100% the embarrassing stories one. the kids ask her for the same silly story about their parents again and again eeevery time she visits. they never get tired of it and neither does she. (sif and isa certainly do though fjnf)

BONNIE… we didnt talk much about bonnie,,

doing some very basic math bonnie would be arounnd their? early or mid twenties when the kids are. “born”. (wished into existence). which makes me honestly so depressed and sad to thinking about ohmy god theyre growing up i might die

i think they would bond very easily with the kids though! would enjoy getting to show and teach them things- things that make themself happy like cooking etc. i do think as well bon would be trying very hard, maybe a little too hard, to appear cool and chill around them. so that they respect them. (kinda how i hc sif to have been around bon early on pre-story,, bc nothing is more validating than the approval of an 11yo lol)

OK FINALLY… LOOP…..

i already talked a bit about loop in the original post but i guess i can juuust repeat myself a lil.

loops feeling are complicated. we joked about them being a funny babysitter, the kids probably think theyre so so fun to play with, buut it might take some time to get there. its been years since the end of the loops, working through jealously and learning to be satisfied with what they do have but! this is! different!! and its hard…

… but it gets better

(im out of screenshot space but we also had the idea of the kids putting on plays, maybe if sif ever shared his love of theatre with them, and tbey would absolutely rope loop into it. loop who is reluctant to participate until they realize how much fun theyre having with these two)

[itstobias149]

Little Macs Sibling Lore dump

Hey guys! Today I bring you a post made up of a collectionon of random lore drops about Marie through the eyes of Little Mac! I had a lot of fun, I'm sorry its such a long post. I hope you all enjoy it though.

This post contains stuff about my oc, if you don't like oc stuff this post may not be for you and that's okay! This is also based on my own Headcanons and ideas! Everyone has their own interpretation of the boxers and their stories and personlives and that's okay!

“Alright, so Marie’s like, my older sister or whatever, but I swear, she’s basically an old lady trapped in a chubby cutman’s body. She’s out here knitting scarves for nobody, like just endless scarves that pile up in her closet. She’s got this thing for baking cookies at 6 AM—6 AM!—like who wakes up thinking, ‘You know what the world needs right now? Snickerdoodles.’

Oh, and don’t get me started on her tea collection. It’s massive. She’s got every flavor you can think of, like she’s preparing for a tea apocalypse or something. You open her cupboard and BAM! It’s like a botanical garden exploded in there. She’s always watching those weird crime shows too—like, if you ask her about “Murder She Wrote,” she could probably write a dissertation on it.

And you know what really gets me? The puzzles. Marie will sit there at the kitchen table doing jigsaw puzzles for HOURS. Like, she’s got all these guys fawning over her, and she’s over here acting like a grandma just waiting for bingo night. It’s weird, but it’s Marie, y’know? Her card game obsession is just the cherry on top. She’s always trying to rope people into playing Gin Rummy or Canasta. If she doesn’t have anyone to play with, she’ll sit there doing solitaire, shuffling the cards like she’s in a Vegas casino. And don’t even think about beating her—she’s ruthless, calling out rules you’ve never heard of, like, ‘Actually, you can’t play that card because it’s Thursday.’

Marie also has these old-school habits that just make her seem even more like an old grandma, and I mean that in the funniest way possible. First off, she’s always trying to feed everyone. Doesn’t matter if you’re hungry or not—she’s like, ‘You’re too skinny, you need to eat.’ She’ll whip out a full meal in five minutes like it’s a magic trick. Fighter? Coach? Cameraman? You mention you are hungry and she just appears with food, where does it come from? Her big beehive?

And the food—oh, the food. Marie’s kitchen always smells like she’s been cooking for a village. She’s making kugel, latkes, stuffed cabbage—you name it. She even learned how to make her own challah, which she insists on braiding perfectly, and don’t even get me started on her chicken soup. It’s practically a cure-all. Got a cold? Soup. Bad day? Soup. Sprained your ankle? Guess what? Soup.

And the guilt trips? Oh, man. Classic Marie. Like if I don’t call her when I’m out late, she hits me with, ‘Don’t worry about me, I’ll just sit here and wonder if my little brother is alive or in a ditch somewhere.’ I’m like, ‘Marie, I went to the store for five minutes!’ I get it I'm short and I'm only 17, but I've beaten guys that are three times my age and height.

Then there’s her obsession with coupons and deals. She’s not even strapped for cash, but if she gets something full price, she acts like she’s personally betrayed her ancestors. She’s all about ‘Why pay $5 when you could pay $4.75?’

Oh, and holidays? Forget about it. She goes ALL OUT. Passover, Hanukkah, you name it—she’s dragging me to synagogue, making matzo ball soup, and lecturing me on traditions like I’m in Sunday school again. But honestly, it’s kinda nice. Makes things feel like home.

Marie’s just got this old Jewish lady energy, even though she’s… y’know, Marie. It’s like she’s channeling generations of bubbes, but in her own chaotic, lovable way.”

“Oh man, don’t even get me started on Marie’s house. It’s like stepping into a time capsule. She’s got these old decorations everywhere—like, actual antiques. She’s got menorahs that look like they came straight out of the shtetl, ceramic pomegranates, and a hamsa on every other wall. There’s even this weird old clock that doesn’t work, but she won’t get rid of it because ‘it has character.’

And then there’s the singing. If she’s cleaning, cooking, or just puttering around the house, you know she’s gonna be singing something in Yiddish. It’s like she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it half the time. She’ll be scrubbing a pan and humming ‘Tumbalalaika’ or ‘Bei Mir Bistu Shein.’ Sometimes she gets into it and starts belting out like she’s on stage, and I’m just sitting there like, ‘You good, Marie?’

It’s honestly kinda comforting, though. Like, it’s chaotic, but it’s her. I mean, yeah, she’s got this whole grandma vibe, but it just makes the place feel warm and alive. Even if she’s singing so loud the neighbors can hear.”

“Okay, so Marie’s list of grandma activities is endless. Like, she collects random jars and containers. Doesn’t matter if it’s an old pickle jar or a tin from cookies—she’ll clean it out and say something like, ‘You never know when you’ll need a good jar.’ Now her cabinets are full of ‘em, and I swear, half of them are empty.

She’s obsessed with gardening, but not, like, normal plants—she’s growing herbs and weird flowers that I’m convinced nobody’s even heard of. She’ll come in with dirt on her face like, ‘Look, Little Mac, my rosemary’s thriving!’ Meanwhile, I can barely keep a cactus alive.

Oh, and she’s got this thing with handwritten notes. Like, she refuses to use her phone for reminders. Instead, she’ll write down recipes, to-do lists, or random thoughts on little scraps of paper—and they’re everywhere. You’ll find ‘em in her coat pockets, on the fridge, even in the bathroom.

Then there’s her perfume collection, which is wild. She’s got these vintage bottles that look like they came out of a 1920s department store. And the scents? They’re super flowery or musky, like classic grandma fragrances. She’s always dabbing it on her wrists like it’s a ritual, and if you say it’s strong, she’ll just shrug and say, ‘That’s how you know it’s good.’

And her dishes—oh boy. Marie’s got the fanciest plates and bowls, but they’re so old-school they’ve probably been passed down for generations. She’s got these blue and white porcelain plates she only uses for special occasions and some glassware that’s so delicate she practically makes you sign a waiver before touching it. Meanwhile, she’ll serve you cookies on a little tray that looks like it belongs in a museum.

Marie’s collections are a big part of who she is—they tell stories of her past, her culture, and her unique personality. Walking into her apartment is like stepping into a cozy, lived-in museum of sorts. It’s a collection of memories, keepsakes, and things that hold sentimental value. But at the same time, it feels like home, a space that’s warm and inviting despite all the stuff packed into every nook and cranny.

First, there’s her collection of old religious items. You can’t miss them. She’s got candles, menorahs, and even an antique silver kiddush cup that’s been passed down through generations. When she talks about these objects, you can see the reverence in her eyes—they’re not just decorations; they’re links to her family’s past, to the traditions her grandparents carried with them from Europe. She’s got prayer books in Yiddish and Hebrew, their pages yellowed with age, some of them with notes written in the margins. It’s clear that every item in her collection has a story, a memory attached to it.

Then there are her trinkets—lots of small figurines and dolls from different cultures. Some are from her travels, like the little wooden figurines from Slovakia or the hand-painted pottery she bought when she visited Romania. They’re scattered around her living room, on shelves or in glass cabinets, like little time capsules. Each one seems to have a story of where she’s been, who she was with, or something important that happened in her life. Some of the pieces are quirky—like the hand-carved wooden clown from a street market in Prague—but others are so intricate and beautiful, I can’t help but admire the craftsmanship.

Marie also collects vintage cookbooks. Old ones, some of them falling apart from how much she’s used them. She’s got this one cookbook that’s a hundred years old, and she’s used it so much that the pages are stained with grease and food marks. She said it belonged to her grandmother, who taught her how to cook all those old-world recipes. Every time I look at it, I can’t help but think about how much history is packed into those pages. You can tell these aren’t just recipes; they’re part of her family’s identity. Whenever she cooks, she’s connecting with her roots, with the women who came before her. It’s like she’s passing the knowledge down, one meal at a time.

There’s also a whole section of her home that’s dedicated to vintage postcards. She’s been collecting them for years—mostly ones from different places she’s been, but also some old ones she’s found at thrift stores or flea markets. They’re mostly from the early 1900s, showing cities, landmarks, and scenes from long ago. I remember her showing me one of New York from the 1920s, and she told me that her great-grandparents used to live in that exact neighborhood. It’s amazing how these little postcards capture a moment in time—like frozen memories of lives that were lived long before we came along.

And then, of course, there’s the collection of old dishes and teacups. She’s got this collection of mismatched, delicate porcelain teacups—most of them from different countries. There’s one that she’s really fond of, a cup with little roses painted on it that she got from a shop in Vienna. She says it reminds her of when she visited the city with her mother, back when things were simpler. Sometimes, on quiet afternoons, she’ll pull out one of her favorite cups, brew a pot of tea, and we’ll sit and chat, letting the time slip by. It’s like she’s recreating those small, intimate moments of her past, making new memories with each cup.

I’ve noticed how Marie’s collections aren’t just about having stuff; they’re a reflection of her life, her history, and her connection to both her Jewish roots and the cultures she’s grown up around. Sometimes, when she’s showing me her collections, it’s like she’s telling me pieces of her story without saying much at all. It’s in the way she talks about the items, the pride in her voice when she tells me the history behind them. It’s almost like these collections are her way of holding onto the past while moving forward—an acknowledgment of where she’s come from, and a way of keeping it all alive.

The coolest part, though, is how she’s started teaching me about her collections, how she’s opened up about the stories behind each item. I’ve learned so much from her—about her family, her heritage, and her way of seeing the world. She’s passed along some of the old cooking techniques from her family’s recipes, the way they used to stretch a meal and make everything from scratch. And every time we cook together, it feels like I’m adding my own little piece to her collection—like I’m a part of her story now, too.

Marie’s collections have this way of connecting the past and present, of honoring where she’s come from while she builds her life here and now. And even though I’m not really a collector, it’s hard not to get caught up in the magic of it all—the way she looks at each item, the pride she takes in preserving these pieces of her life. It’s not just about the things she owns; it’s about the memories they hold, the people they’ve connected her to, and the legacy she’s continuing. It’s a big part of why being with her feels like being part of something so much bigger than just the two of us.

Marie’s collection of old quilts and handmade clothes is probably one of the most personal and heartfelt parts of her home. Each piece is like a patchwork of memories, not just fabric, but moments in time, stories of hands that sewed them, and the love that went into making them. I’ve always been amazed by the way she talks about her quilts—how each stitch feels like it holds a piece of her family’s history.

The quilts are incredible. Some of them are centuries old, handed down from her great-grandmother and others from her mother. They’re faded now, the colors soft and worn, but they’ve got this warmth to them—almost like they still carry the imprint of the hands that created them. I remember the first time I saw them, spread out across her bed like a tapestry of the past. The designs are intricate, sometimes even abstract, and Marie can tell you exactly where each one came from. Some are made from fabric scraps, leftovers from clothes that her family wore, while others are more meticulously designed patterns that took hours to stitch together.

I think what really strikes me about the quilts is the level of care in each one. Marie says her grandmother made them during the tough years when they didn’t have much. They used whatever fabric they could get their hands on—old dresses, scraps from coats, bits of whatever they could salvage—and then she’d sew them all together into something beautiful and functional. It’s not just about making something to keep warm; it’s about creating something from nothing, something that could be passed down, that would be there to tell the family’s story.

Marie’s not only a collector of these quilts—she’s a maker, too. She’s shown me how she still hand-stitches some of the smaller repairs or adds new designs to the older quilts, kind of like preserving them, but also giving them a little life of their own. She told me that it’s part of how she connects with her family, with the women who came before her. Each stitch she adds feels like she’s participating in the same tradition, carrying it on in her own way. I never really understood how something like that could feel so personal, but when you see the care and attention she gives to each piece, it’s hard not to feel the love in it.

And then there are the handmade clothes. Marie’s always been into crafting—knitting, sewing, crocheting. She has this incredible collection of vintage sewing patterns that she’s gotten from all over the world, some dating back to the 1930s. I’ve seen her pull out these old patterns with these beautiful, detailed drawings of women’s dresses, coats, and even accessories, and she’ll talk about how she wants to try them out one day. She’s made everything from wool cardigans to hand-sewn dresses, each one unique, each one a work of art. The fabrics she uses are often vintage, too—like old silk from her travels or linen she picked up at a market in Spain—and she’s so particular about every little detail. I’ve watched her sew late into the night, her hands moving over the fabric with this incredible focus, like she’s channeling the spirit of all the seamstresses in her family.

One of the most special things she’s made, though, is a sweater she knitted for me. She gave it to me last winter, and when I first saw it, I couldn’t believe how much care she’d put into every stitch. The yarn was this deep blue, soft and thick, perfect for the cold weather. I don’t know if she meant for it to be anything more than a simple sweater, but when I put it on, I felt like I was wearing a piece of her heart. I wear it all the time now, especially when it gets cold, and it always makes me feel close to her, like I’m wrapped in her warmth.

What I love most about Marie’s quilts and handmade clothes, though, is how they represent her dedication to the people she loves. It’s not just about creating something beautiful—it’s about making something that lasts, that can be passed down through the generations, just like the quilts and clothes from her ancestors. It’s like she’s making her own legacy, stitch by stitch, and with each quilt she adds to her collection, each sweater she knits, she’s making a piece of history for the future. Even though she’s modern, her love for these handmade creations feels timeless, as though she’s carrying a tradition forward that might otherwise be lost. And every time I see her working on one of her projects, I’m reminded of how much of her heart goes into everything she does.

Then there’s her knitting addiction. She’s making blankets, socks, and hats for everyone. And she doesn’t just stop at knitting—she crochets too. Sometimes she’ll call me over and be like, ‘Try this on,’ and it’s some oversized sweater that I’m not even sure fits me.

Oh, and Marie LOVES writing letters. Like, actual letters with envelopes and stamps. She’ll sit at the table for hours with her fancy pens, writing to people who probably won’t even write back. She says it’s ‘more personal.’

I’m telling you, she’s basically 80 years old in a younger body. It’s kinda hilarious, but also weirdly comforting.”

“Okay, so I get it—Marie’s an immigrant from Germany, and her late family was super traditional. She’s told me the stories a million times: how they kept kosher, how her mom would light candles every Friday night, and how her dad used to lecture her about the importance of keeping traditions alive. Like, I know where all her quirks come from.

But sometimes I look at her and think, ‘Marie, we’re not in the old country anymore.’ Like, I’m pretty sure nobody else in the WVBA is sitting down to hand-roll kreplach or yelling at the TV in Yiddish when the news is on. And yet, there she is, making gefilte fish from scratch and humming old folk songs while she does it.

I get that her upbringing made her who she is, and I respect it—I really do. But Marie takes it to a whole new level. She’s out here sewing patches onto my clothes, like it’s 1935 and I can’t just buy a new jacket. Or she’ll tell me things like, ‘In my family, we always did this,’ while setting the table with enough food to feed the entire league.

Okay, so yeah, Marie’s got all these old-school habits, but honestly? She’s been teaching me a ton of stuff that’s actually useful. Like, she’s a master at stretching a dollar. I used to think meal prepping was just for fitness buffs, but nope—Marie’s out here making meals that last a week, and they taste better every day. I’ve learned how to make a mean pot of chicken soup, and now I’m the guy everyone calls when they’re sick.

She’s also big on fixing things instead of throwing them out. My gloves were falling apart, and I was ready to toss them, but she showed me how to sew them up. I know, sewing doesn’t sound tough, but you’d be surprised how handy it is when you’re training and gear gets worn out.

And her cooking? It’s like a crash course in survival. She’s teaching me all these recipes that are cheap, filling, and taste amazing—latkes, kugel, even braided challah. She says it’s about ‘taking care of your people,’ and now I feel like I could feed an army if I had to.

She’s even teaching me some Yiddish phrases, which is great for trash-talking in the ring without anyone knowing. Marie says, ‘If you’re gonna call someone a nudnik, at least do it with flair.’

So yeah, she’s old-fashioned, but it’s like having my own personal life coach. I don’t just get a sister—I get a survival guide, a tailor, and a chef all rolled into one.

It’s like she’s stuck between being this old-world Jewish bubbe and a modern-day cutman, and somehow, it works for her. It’s just… sometimes I have to remind her that we’re in New York, not a little shtetl in Germany. It’s funny how people can look at Marie and think she’s just this old, traditional lady, but they don’t always know the full story. I’ve heard her talk about her parents, and honestly, it’s a bit heartbreaking. Her mom and dad, they were born and raised in Germany, and they had that old-school, strict mindset that a lot of people from their generation carried with them. You know, they had lived through a lot—survived the war, rebuilt their lives—and they were determined to keep their family traditions alive, even if that meant keeping a tight grip on Marie. They weren’t bad people, but they were overbearing in a way that you’d only understand if you were raised in a time and place like that.

She was expected to follow the rules, do things the “right” way, and stick to their ideals. It was all about preserving the family name, the old customs, the way things had been passed down from generation to generation. And I get it—her parents went through things most people can’t even imagine. They lived through the worst of history, and their experiences shaped how they viewed the world. They probably just wanted to protect Marie from the chaos that had torn apart their lives and their home. But that didn’t mean she had to stay trapped in that mindset forever.

Marie’s always been this independent spirit, though. She’s got her own opinions, her own ideas about how things should be, and as much as she respected her parents, she didn’t agree with a lot of the things they pushed on her. She loved them, no doubt, but she needed more than just their way of living. It wasn’t until after they passed that Marie felt like she could truly breathe, like she was finally free to make her own choices and live her life on her terms. I think that’s when she really came into her own. That’s when she left Germany and came here, looking for something different, something that would allow her to be herself.

It wasn’t easy, though. Coming to a new country, starting fresh, and breaking away from the expectations her parents had set for her—it was all a huge challenge. But that’s Marie. She’s never been one to back down, and even though she didn’t agree with the way her parents had raised her, she understood where they were coming from. They’d lived through the worst times in history, and for them, that kind of control was just a way of coping with everything they’d lost. But for Marie, it was suffocating. She wasn’t going to live a life defined by fear or by the shadows of the past. She came to us, to America, for freedom—freedom to be who she truly was, to make her own path, and to define her own future.

It wasn’t like she rejected everything they taught her—she still holds onto parts of her heritage, her culture, and the values that shaped her. But she learned that she didn’t have to live under the weight of their rules, and that’s something she’s always fought for. She believes in embracing the past, but she also believes in moving forward, in creating a life that’s her own. That’s why she’s so willing to learn from others, to hear different perspectives, and to understand people from all walks of life. It’s her way of reclaiming her own identity, and I think that’s what makes her so special.

She doesn’t talk about it much, but I know that leaving Germany wasn’t just about escaping her parents—it was about finding herself, finding a place where she didn’t have to live in anyone’s shadow. And when she came here, she didn’t just step into the world that awaited her; she built her own life, on her own terms. It’s something I admire a lot about her—she took the lessons from her past, the struggles she went through, and used them to shape the woman she is today. She’s proud of her roots, but she knows she can’t be confined by them. That’s Marie—always pushing forward, always staying true to herself, no matter where she came from or who tried to hold her back.

But outside of her old ways her opinions are pretty modern. She is for the people, for the minorities. You know, sometimes Marie comes off as old-fashioned, especially with the way she carries herself. She’s got her routines—like making sure everyone’s got enough to eat, or making time for her old-school traditions, like keeping the house cozy with homemade quilts or sitting down with a good book. People might look at her and think she’s just this sweet, old lady who’s stuck in the past, but they couldn’t be more wrong. She’s actually one of the most forward-thinking people I know, especially when it comes to social justice.

It might not always look that way, but Marie’s got this fire inside her. She doesn’t just sit back and accept things because “that’s how it’s always been.” If she sees something she thinks is wrong, you can bet she’s going to stand up for it—no matter the situation. She might be the one sitting in a quiet corner at a dinner party, but when it comes to speaking out, she doesn’t hesitate for a second.

I’ve seen her go toe-to-toe with people who try to put others down, especially when it comes to injustice. Whether it’s racism, discrimination, or people being treated unfairly, she’s never afraid to call it out. It’s not always dramatic—she doesn’t make a big scene—but you can feel the power of her words when she does speak up. I remember this one time when a few of the boxers were making some off-hand remarks about someone’s culture, and Marie didn’t let it slide. She didn’t lecture them, but she calmly told them how those kinds of comments were hurtful, how important it was to respect every person’s background, no matter where they come from. The room got quiet, and for a moment, I think everyone realized how much they’d been missing—how easy it was to fall into ignorance if you didn’t stop and think.

Marie’s not the kind of person who makes a big deal about it, but when she stands up for what’s right, people listen. She’s never one to shy away from a conversation, especially if it means standing up for the underdog. I’ve seen her defend workers in the stores she shops at, the people who’ve been overlooked by others. It doesn’t matter if it’s someone cleaning the floors or serving food—Marie sees people as people, and if she feels like they’re not being treated right, she’ll speak up. She’s taught me that being kind and respectful isn’t just about showing love to people who are easy to love—it’s about standing up for the ones who might be forgotten or mistreated, too.

I think part of it comes from the way she was raised—growing up in a tough time and learning that you’ve got to fight for what’s right. It’s a different world now, but Marie’s sense of justice hasn’t changed. She was taught that you stand up for the people who don’t have a voice, that you make sure everyone gets a fair chance. She doesn’t just fight for others when it’s convenient or when it’s easy. She does it because she believes it’s the right thing to do.

And even though she’s old-fashioned in some ways, it’s clear that she’s got a modern heart. She understands the struggles people are going through today, and she’s got a strong opinion about how things should change. Whether it’s talking to one of the boxers about their behavior or stepping up for a cause she believes in, Marie is never one to back down. She may be gentle, but she’s got a backbone made of steel.

It’s honestly kind of amazing to see someone so rooted in tradition still push for progress. She reminds me all the time that standing up for others doesn’t have to be loud or flashy—it’s about doing the right thing even when nobody’s looking. That’s the real power she has: making sure people are treated with dignity and respect, no matter who they are or where they come from. And to me, that makes her more modern than a lot of people I know, despite the fact that she’s into old quilts and listening to language tapes. She’s got a wisdom that comes from experience, and I can’t think of a better role model.

“I mean, I’ve always been Catholic, y’know? It’s kind of in my blood. I’m Hispanic, so that whole church thing was a big part of growing up. Sunday mornings meant heading to church with my mom, and then there’d be the whole family afterwards for a big meal, and of course, we’d say grace before we ate. It’s just… tradition. My mom would make me sit still through the whole mass, even when I wanted to run around as a kid, and she’d always say the rosary with me at night before bed, counting the beads like it was a ritual. I’d pray to the Virgin Mary and Jesus, asking for guidance. It was something I didn’t always get, but it was comforting, like it grounded me in a way. Even if I didn’t understand all the words or the history behind everything, there was this peace in it. Church was a space for me to reset, y’know?

Then, there’s Marie. She’s Jewish—born and raised, and her family’s super traditional. I know she grew up with a lot of the same values, just with a different foundation. Every time I stay with her, I learn a little more about her culture and her faith, and she’s always open to hearing about mine too. I don’t think I ever realized how much I didn’t know about her traditions until she started explaining it. For example, she told me about Shabbat, how every Friday night, she lights candles, says a prayer, and makes everything peaceful for the weekend. It’s such a simple but deep thing, right? She said it’s about setting the tone for the rest of the week—something like that. Honestly, I was kind of surprised by how similar it felt to what we do, except ours is on Sundays. She also explained how lighting the candles is a way to honor the Sabbath, and I thought that was powerful. She said the prayer in Hebrew, and I couldn’t really catch all of it, but the way she said it… there was this calmness to it. I wanted to understand it more.

One night, I asked her about some of the prayers she says before meals, and she told me about the bracha, the blessing over bread. That was something I had never heard of. She said, ‘Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who brings forth bread from the earth,’ and she explained how it’s this deep connection to what the earth gives us. I liked that. It felt really… connected, you know? Like, appreciating where food comes from, where life comes from. I actually started saying a little prayer in my head after hearing hers, kind of like how we do grace before meals. It wasn’t exactly the same, but the feeling behind it—being thankful, taking a moment to appreciate what we have—it made sense to me. It’s not that different when you really think about it.

She’s even asked me to teach her some of the Catholic traditions, like the rosary. I showed her how we pray with the beads and how the Hail Mary and Our Father are part of our routine. At first, she didn’t really get it—like, ‘Why do you have to repeat so many prayers?’ But as I explained it to her, she seemed to find it interesting. She said something like, ‘It’s kind of like meditating, right? Repeating the words to focus your mind?’ And I guess, in a way, she’s right. It’s not just about the words, but about the mindset. About putting your trust in something bigger than yourself, taking a minute to just breathe and let go.

It’s funny because sometimes we’ll sit together, each of us in our own little world, practicing our faiths in the way we know how, but we never judge each other. Instead, it’s like we’re both learning from one another. I’ll catch her lighting candles, and sometimes, without even thinking, I’ll say a prayer to myself. Or we’ll sit down for a meal, and she’ll say her bracha while I quietly say grace. There’s no conflict, no “this is better than that.” It’s just… respect. We’re different, but there’s a shared understanding that both of our faiths are important parts of who we are.

I remember one day, I was feeling kind of off after training, and Marie noticed. She looked at me and said, ‘Maybe you should say a prayer for strength.’ She didn’t know what I usually do, but I felt like, for once, I didn’t have to explain. I just said, ‘Yeah, I think I will.’ And we both took a moment, in our own ways, to connect with something bigger than us. I said my rosary prayer, and she said one of her own, and it was like, for just a moment, we were both in the same place spiritually.

Honestly, the more we talk about it, the more I realize that faith isn’t just about the specifics of the tradition. It’s about believing in something, having that foundation to stand on when life gets tough. And Marie… she’s shown me that while our religions might look different on the surface, the core of it is the same: love, family, tradition, and a deep appreciation for the life we’ve been given. And, I guess, in that way, we teach each other, without even trying.”

“Man, when I think about how Marie and I have blended our cultures together, it feels like it’s more than just about food or traditions—it’s about a deeper connection. We’re from different worlds, right? Me, with my Hispanic background, raised in a Catholic household, and her, with her Jewish upbringing, coming from a family that holds onto traditions like they’re a lifeline. At first, I didn’t think we’d have that much in common when it came to holidays or meals or anything like that, but as we started sharing more of ourselves with each other, I realized it’s all about finding that space where both of our worlds can exist side by side.

I remember the first time I went with Marie to her family’s Shabbat dinner. It was so different from anything I’d ever experienced. The candles, the prayers, the way everyone gathered around the table to share the bread and wine—it felt intimate, spiritual. I had never been part of anything like that before. And I’ll admit, I didn’t fully understand all the prayers or the Hebrew, but I could feel something deep, like this connection to the past, to her ancestors. It was like they were carrying on something that meant so much, something that had been passed down for generations. There was such a reverence in the room, a respect for tradition. I felt like an outsider at first, but Marie, she didn’t make me feel that way. She just told me to do what felt right, and that was enough.

And then, she started asking me about my own traditions. I remember the first time I talked about Día de los Muertos with her. She didn’t know much about it—how we honor our loved ones, set up altars with candles, marigolds, and pictures, and how the food, like pan de muerto, is a symbol of life and death coexisting. I could tell it really resonated with her. She asked a million questions, like she was trying to understand the whole concept—not just the rituals, but what it meant to me, how it shaped my perspective on life and death. And I think that’s when I realized: it wasn’t about just explaining a holiday; it was about explaining a part of myself. Sharing that with her felt like we were connecting on a deeper level than I ever imagined.

When we decided to merge our two cultures for Christmas last year, that’s when it really hit me how much we were growing together. I cooked up some tamales, and she made her famous latkes. I swear, she was more excited about my tamales than I was—she was curious about every little detail, asking how I wrapped the masa, what kind of fillings I liked. And when it came time for dinner, we sat down together, and it wasn’t just about eating—it was like a celebration of both our families, both our histories. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that meal was a symbol of us coming together in this space we created—our own little mix of everything.

But it’s not just the meals or the holidays. It’s how we’ve both started weaving bits of each other’s cultures into our everyday lives. Like when Marie would teach me the Yiddish words her grandmother taught her, and I’d throw in some Spanish phrases she didn’t know. Or when we started making room in our lives for both the rosary and the Shabbat candles—one for the end of the week, the other for the beginning. It’s small stuff, but it feels monumental, like we’re building this bridge between us, brick by brick, until the difference between us doesn’t feel so different at all.

And the best part is, we don’t feel like we have to choose one over the other. It’s not about me abandoning my roots or her abandoning hers. It’s about realizing that the beauty of our relationship isn’t in our sameness, but in how we’ve learned to respect and embrace each other’s differences. It’s like each holiday, each meal, each little ritual, is a way to say, ‘I see you. I understand where you come from. And I want to be a part of that.’

We’ve built our own traditions now—ones that mix the old and the new. Like, this past year, we decided to make a whole bunch of different dishes for Thanksgiving. We had the turkey and the stuffing, of course, but we also had marinated brisket, challah bread, and tamales. It was a weird combo at first, but when we sat down to eat, I realized that this—this was the new tradition. It wasn’t just one holiday, one culture, or one history; it was a reflection of both of us, coming together and carving out something that was uniquely ours.

And the deeper I get into all this, the more I realize it’s not about any one meal or prayer—it’s about what those things represent. It’s about learning the sacredness in each other’s customs and realizing that, even though we’re from different backgrounds, we’re both carrying pieces of something bigger. That’s what’s made this whole journey with Marie so special: it’s not just about learning from each other, it’s about creating something new together, something that honors both of our pasts while looking forward to the future we’re building.”

Marie’s always looking for ways to connect with people, even when it’s hard. She’ll invite the other boxers over for dinner or lunch, and it’s not just about feeding them—it’s about sharing something, learning from each other, and seeing if they can break through the barriers that sometimes exist between them. I’ve seen it firsthand. No matter how different the boxers are, or how much tension might be between them, she’ll set a table for everyone. Whether they’re from different parts of the world, speak different languages, or come from different cultures, she’s always trying to create this space where people can connect.

Marie doesn’t expect miracles. She knows she can’t always get along with everyone, and she knows that sometimes, people aren’t going to suddenly become best friends just because there’s food on the table. But she tries anyway. She makes an effort to make sure everyone feels heard, even if it’s not easy. I’ve seen her with Bald Bull and Soda Popinski—those two can barely stand each other, but somehow, at one of Marie’s dinners, the tension fades a little. It’s not like they forget their differences, but it’s like they understand each other a little better. They’ll start talking about their hometowns or their favorite foods, and even if it’s just for that moment, the rivalry takes a backseat.

She’s got this deep need to get to know people, not just as boxers but as individuals. She’s always looking for common ground, always trying to understand where someone’s coming from. It’s not always about speaking the same language; it’s about making the effort, showing respect, and being curious. That’s why you’ll find her listening to language tapes in the car on the way to the gym or before bed. I don’t think she ever stops trying to learn. She’s always listening to lessons in German, Yiddish, Ladino, or Spanish, working on something new to help her communicate better. It’s one of the things I admire most about her—she’s not content just knowing what she knows. She wants to understand more, and she’s willing to put in the work to bridge those gaps.

And even though not everyone gets along, she still believes in the value of that connection. She knows there are going to be days when the boxers clash or when there’s a rough atmosphere in the gym, but that doesn’t stop her from trying to build something different. If she can’t make them all get along, at least she can try to give them the tools to understand each other better. She’s not a miracle worker, but she’s definitely a bridge builder. It’s something small, but it has a big impact. Even if they don’t always see eye to eye, I think they leave her dinners with a little more respect for each other and the cultures they come from.

Sometimes it’s the smallest gestures that mean the most. She doesn’t ask for much in return—she doesn’t expect anyone to suddenly speak fluent Yiddish or learn all about her background in a day. But it’s the effort she puts in, the conversations she sparks, that slowly starts to change things. I think it’s part of who she is—this belief that no matter where someone’s from or how different they seem, there’s always something you can learn from each other. It’s not easy work, and sometimes it feels like it’s not making much of a difference, but she’s always at it, trying to make the world a little smaller, one dinner at a time.

Oh, man, Marie’s definitely had her moments with the language barrier. It’s actually kind of funny how hard she tries, and how sometimes, it just doesn’t go the way she plans.

I remember this one dinner with a few of the boxers—Bald Bull, Soda, and a couple of others. Marie was really excited because she’d been studying a bit of Turkish for a while, trying to connect with Bald Bull more. She had this whole plan to surprise him by speaking a little Turkish when he arrived, and she’d been listening to language tapes for days. So, she’s all pumped, right? The food’s ready, and she says to Bald Bull, “Hoş geldiniz!” (which means “Welcome”), and she’s smiling real big, waiting for his reaction.

Bald Bull just stands there, blinking for a second, and then he says, “What’d you say? Is that a new kind of soup?”

Marie’s face went from excited to totally confused, and we all just started laughing. It turns out she’d gotten one of the phrases wrong. She’d meant to say something welcoming, but it sounded like she was offering him a bowl of something. Bald Bull wasn’t upset, though. He actually laughed, too, and started teasing her about being “fluent in food, not language.”

It was funny, but it also showed just how hard she works to make that connection. She could’ve easily just stuck to speaking English, or German, or whatever she knew best, but no—she’s always pushing herself, trying to speak someone else’s language, even if it doesn’t come out perfectly. And honestly, even though it didn’t go as planned, it meant a lot that she tried. After that, Bald Bull was actually way more open to talking to her, even teaching her some Turkish words. He got a kick out of it, and by the end of the night, everyone was joking around in a mix of languages—English, Yiddish, Turkish, even a little Spanish from me.

Marie’s always learning and pushing herself, but she doesn’t take herself too seriously when things don’t go perfectly. The language barrier’s still there, but she doesn’t let it stop her. That’s just Marie. She’ll stumble, but she’ll keep going, even if it means saying something that makes everyone laugh.

Oh, Marie’s always so thoughtful about these things, so before she gives anyone a hug or that European cheek kiss, she always checks with the management first. She doesn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable—she’s just naturally affectionate, you know? She’ll ask them, “Is it okay if I greet him this way? I just want to make sure it’s not too much.” She’s got this polite, considerate side that’s honestly kind of funny considering how enthusiastically she greets people.

But sometimes, it doesn’t always go as smoothly as she thinks. I remember one time, Marie had just been told by management that it was fine to greet this new boxer from Eastern Europe with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. They’d said it was cool, so Marie went for it—no hesitation. She walks up to the guy, big smile on her face, arms open wide, and as she goes in for the hug, you could see the panic in his eyes. He looks like a deer caught in headlights.

He tries to awkwardly sidestep her, but Marie’s already there, giving him this big warm hug, and then she quickly plants a kiss on his cheek, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. But here’s the thing—this guy doesn’t even know how to react. He turns bright red, completely flustered, and backs up a little like he’s trying to get his bearings. At first, he’s just standing there, looking around like he’s trying to figure out if he’s supposed to do something in return. Is he supposed to kiss her cheek back? Hug her again? What was happening?!

Marie, not missing a beat, just smiles at him and says, “There, see? Wasn’t that easy?” as if it’s a casual, everyday greeting.

But this poor guy? His face goes even redder, and he starts mumbling in a mix of broken English and his native language. He’s flustered, trying to explain he’s not used to the whole European cheek-kiss thing. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her—it was just, well, a cultural shock. He looks over at the other boxers like he’s hoping for some guidance, but everyone else is trying to hold in their laughter, not wanting to make it worse.

Then, just to add to the comedy of the situation, one of the other guys (who’s seen Marie do this a hundred times) leans over and says, “It’s okay, buddy. Just wait until you get the full Marie treatment—you’ll get used to it!”

It wasn’t that the guy didn’t appreciate the greeting, but the suddenness of it caught him totally off guard. After that, he made a point of giving Marie a little wave every time they passed by, but still kept a bit of a distance—like he wasn’t quite ready for the full embrace yet.

Marie, though? She just laughed it off, completely unaware of how flustered he was, and continued to ask management about the next person she’d be meeting. She never wants to make anyone uncomfortable, but she’s definitely got that big, heart-on-her-sleeve attitude that sometimes takes people by surprise.

Man, when I think about Marie, there’s a lot I could say. She’s definitely not perfect—nobody is, right? She’s got her quirks, her old-school habits, and sometimes, she comes off a little… overbearing. But in a lot of ways, that’s what makes her who she is, and honestly, I wouldn’t change a thing.

She’s a hugger(sometimes), always going for those big, warm embraces, and the European kiss on the cheek greeting is so her. I’ve seen her catch people off guard with it—guys who aren’t used to that kind of thing. She’ll greet anyone like they’re family, whether it’s Bald Bull, Soda Popinski, or some new guy we’re training with. Sometimes, they’re flustered or confused at first, but they come to appreciate it. She doesn’t judge people, and she doesn’t care where they come from. She just wants to make sure they feel welcomed. And that includes asking management if it’s okay to greet someone that way, making sure no one’s uncomfortable.

Marie’s got a lot of old traditions—she loves her Yiddish, her German roots, and her ethnic foods. She cooks like you’re at your grandma’s house, and she’ll make sure you know every single ingredient in that dish, even if it’s hard to pronounce. And don’t even get me started on how she’s always trying to learn new languages—she’s listening to tapes in the car, studying words late at night, just so she can connect with the guys better. She knows it’s not always going to work, but she tries anyway. Even when there’s a language barrier, she’s trying to make that bridge. It’s like she believes that communication, no matter how imperfect, is key.

She’ll invite boxers over to dinner, even if they’re from different cultures, just to get to know them. Sometimes it’s awkward, sometimes it’s a little weird, but she makes it work. I’ve seen her do it—making those cultural exchanges happen, finding something in common, and trying to break down those walls. Even when they don’t get along, she’s there, working her hardest to build some kind of understanding. She doesn’t let differences keep her from trying to make people feel at home, even if it’s a battle sometimes.

Now, I’ve seen the way she handles things with her family, too. Her parents were strict, real traditional—especially with her being Jewish and growing up in Germany. They had a way of thinking that didn’t always mesh with Marie’s need for freedom. She didn’t agree with everything they said or did. When they passed, she left for the U.S. She came here for a new life, for more opportunities, and for the chance to live on her own terms. She didn’t let anyone hold her back, and that took a lot of courage.

She’s got a big heart, but she’s also a fighter in her own right. She stands up for social justice, even when it’s not popular. You don’t always see it, but she’s got that fire. She might not be loud about it, but she’s quietly pushing for what’s right, helping people out in the ways she can.

But yeah, she’s not perfect. Sometimes she’s overbearing, sometimes she’s got her own ways that don’t always make sense to everyone, and sometimes she makes things awkward with her affection or language mishaps. But that’s what makes her Marie. She’s real. She’s stubborn, kind-hearted, and she doesn’t stop trying to make the world a little better—whether it’s through food, hugs, or just taking the time to learn about people. And to me? That’s enough. She’s family, and I’m proud to have her as my sister.

P.S. If you ever find yourself at one of her dinners and you see her pull out a dish that looks like it came straight out of a history book, just smile, nod, and eat it. You’ll be fine—unless it’s one of her experimental Yiddish-Slovak fusion dishes… then just pray you survive the taste test.

P.P.S. If you’re ever wondering why Marie insists on giving you a hug and a kiss on the cheek every time you walk through the door, just remember: it’s not because she thinks you need it, it’s because she’s convinced that if she doesn’t, you’ll somehow forget that you’re loved and appreciated. She’s like a walking, talking emotional safety net.

P.P.P.S. And if you’re one of those boxers who’s not into hugs or physical touch? Don’t worry—Marie’s got a backup plan. She’ll give you the warmest, most awkward air hug you’ve ever seen, complete with a look like she’s praying it doesn’t freak you out. Or some cheesy joke. It’s her way of saying, “I respect your boundaries, but also… I really want to hug you, just so you know.”